


(don't) fear the reaper

by justkeeponwriting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Fingering, Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Angst, Grim Reapers, M/M, Magically binding contracts, Reaper Castiel, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 20:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/pseuds/justkeeponwriting
Summary: Castiel is a grim reaper – and a very experienced one at that. He has negotiated thousands of deals to keep the balance of souls, acquiring years of life energy from mortals who have too many years in their life span, and has passed it onto those who have less. But even Castiel isn’t prepared when he accidentally convinces a mortal called Dean Winchester to give him his soul, and with it, a complete control of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DCBB 2018. Apparently I have a theme of finishing DCBB fics at the last minute – I wrote this at the edge of my seat, but I got it done. This idea literally came to me in a dream, and after a little (a lot) tweaking (and yelling and frustrated tears), came into fruition for real. I wish my subconscious was always as generous with ideas as with this one.
> 
> Unfortunately, the idea was easy. The execution less so. I had some real trouble with this fic, but I hope you still like it.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely artist [starmouse123](http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/), who put up with my ridiculous schedule and made [three stunning pieces](http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/post/180038579555/dont-fear-the-reaper-ii-dcbb-2018-ii-art%22) for this fic! You’re a trooper.

Castiel had just finished a deal and was already flying back to his home realm, when he felt the tug of a new, incoming task. He barely had enough time to land in the space between spaces, the vast emptiness that separated the thousands of realms, when the assignment scroll caught up to him and knocked him right on the head. It stung, and annoyed, Castiel brushed the scroll away with his wing. It remained a few feet from him, gently floating in the air and shining bright yellow, as if nothing had just happened. Based on the blatantly innocent behavior, Castiel knew who had sent him the assignment.

“Little less passive-aggressiveness next time you charm a scroll, Rachel,” Castiel muttered. The scroll bobbed up and down in the air, doing a cute little dance.

The innocence was just a cover, as Castiel well knew. The scroll brought nothing more than work for him, more deals to make, more mortals to negotiate with. More mortals he needed to take the extra life force away from, and more mortals he could grant it. Castiel had been working as a grim reaper for longer than he could remember – at least two thousand years – and for the last three centuries, he’d been doing negotiations. On good days, he was proud of his job: acquiring life force for those who had less of it was important work, keeping the balance of the universe. Mortals didn’t view it that way, though. They reacted as if they had somehow earned that extra life force that clung to their souls, like it was a check with their name written on it, and then Castiel showed up to tell them that they’d been paid too much and he was there to cancel the check.

But usually, those deals were smoothed out when Castiel offered them something small in exchange. Mortals were easily impressed with magic, and Castiel would grant them whatever they wished – such as heal a broken leg, or make sure they never had to go to the dentist. (One mortal had surprised Castiel when he’d said, “Dude, I would’ve given five years off of my real life to get out of that.” The fear of dentist was sometimes greater than death itself, Castiel had discovered.) But Castiel’s magic extended only as far as one soul and body went, and although he regularly healed children as an incentive for their parents, it was technically prohibited. His superior Naomi was constantly reminding Castiel in snide remarks that he couldn’t offer to heal anyone else but the one making the deal.

And Castiel didn’t offer, as Naomi advised. He just hinted at it as a perk of making the deal, which Naomi called “a dishonest loophole,” and his friend Gabriel, to his amusement, called “sticking it to the man.”

Unfortunately, not all assignments were like that. Painfully reminding Castiel of that, the yellow scroll hovered in the air before him, slowly creeping closer, and although he didn’t want to, Castiel waved his hand. The scroll unfolded in the air, almost hitting Castiel in the face.

Like he’d feared, it was a desperation deal – again. His superior Naomi had sent him more desperation deals lately, and apparently Rachel was following Naomi’s example. This was some poor soul who had no extra life force for Castiel to take, and yet, he was so desperate for something only magic could grant, that their department had picked up the mortal’s desperation and marked them down.

Castiel didn’t like it. Desperation deals had always felt like one step away from acting like a demon, although he got better benefits at his job than a demon, and at least he told mortals in advantage how many years they had to live and how they could make the best of it. Naomi disliked it whenever he did that, but it made him feel better whenever he had to deal with mothers exchanging their lives for their children or terminally ill people who just wanted to live a little longer. The most Castiel could offer was to make them as healthy as possible in exchange for years off their already short lives. It felt like cheating, but it was the best he could do with his orders.

Castiel sighed as he settled down in the emptiness. The space between time lines was just that: an empty space, a makeshift station for reapers to rest their wings before their next flight. There was nothing in there except a complete whiteness, and the glow of various realms and timelines in the distance. No entries, no exits, just an illusion of them. The empty didn’t encourage anyone to stay, but rather, move quickly to their next task, which Castiel suspected was the space’s purpose.

[The file looked the same as every desperation deal did.](https://imgur.com/kWhGBSo) Castiel’s new target was Dean Winchester, twenty-nine years old, living in Lawrence, Kansas, United States of America, in the year 2008. Dean Winchester was the epitome of desperation deal: his only surviving family member was dying, he had no partner or children of his own, and he had a history of depression. His estimated raw life force was eighty-one, and not a speck over that. It wasn’t the worst Castiel had seen, but this would still be hard to negotiate.

“Few weeks left to live,” Castiel muttered as he read on. Apparently, Dean’s brother was so close to death that he hadn’t been approved to negotiate with. He was already deemed a lost cause. “Both parents dead…no other family…debts… Huh, he’d live long if only...”

Castiel had spent a lot of time lately in the 1800s, and he anticipated that this would be another hard negotiation – modern people were harder to convince that he was a real grim reaper, not a hallucination or a fraud. If Dean would be willing to listen to Castiel’s proposal and wouldn’t try to shoot him on sight, he might be able to take ten years for himself, and transfer the rest to Dean’s brother.

Castiel glanced through the rest of the file, but there were no huge accidents or tragedies marked on Dean’s itinerary, to Castiel’s relief. Some people had to endure unreasonable amounts of pain during their life, and it looked like Dean had had to suffer a lot already.

“Right, then,” Castiel muttered. He nudged the air with his right wing, and a travel pocket of universe he’d charmed to follow him around opened. It looked as if someone had sewn a colorless back pocket in the air, and now that pocket was pulled open. The pocket revealed absolutely nothing within. From the emptiness of it, Castiel pulled out the life force he’d collected during his previous assignments. The life force was stored in what looked like small glass bottles, all shimmering with different colors. Bobbing up and down inside the bottles were colorful balls of light. Castiel didn’t yet have enough for his next transfer – he was collecting years for Kevin Tran, a twenty-year-old in the year 2013, whose soul had been made in such a haste that he was missing almost fifty years of his lifespan. Castiel put the life force bottles away, calculating that he still needed at least twenty years.

Maybe a deal with Dean Winchester would bring him closer to his goal, and he could save Kevin Tran. He quickly accepted the assignment, signing his name to the scroll, and watched as it folded itself and then disappeared with a crack. Early 2008… what did people even wear in that year? Castiel had still on his simple black suit from his last deal in 1925, and he supposed that fashion hadn’t changed so drastically that he would appear strange.

Mind made up, Castiel spread his wings and leaped into flight. The glow in the distance of the empty became more pronounced, until he suddenly flew through something that felt like a waterfall, and he was in the middle of time. Flying through time was one of his favorite aspects of the job. It felt just as wondrous as the first time he went through the rift, watching billions of scenes of people play out all around him, the vastness of them blurring into mere colorful blotches. Young reapers who had just learned to fly feared that they would land in the wrong place or time, but Castiel had never had any trouble finding his target – he didn’t know how he knew, but he always chose the right color to fly through.

This time was no different: Castiel followed the pleasantly different shades of green and gold, somehow knowing that those were the colors of Dean Winchester’s soul, and landed in a hospital room. It was spring, judging by the not-quite-there-yet leaves in the trees, and bright rays of sun lit up the room. The rest of the scene was dark. In the only bed in the room laid a young man, cheeks sunken by disease. He was attached to a ventilator, and every few seconds, a wheezy sound filled the room as breath was pushed in and out of him. The monitors placed around him showed a steady, if a slow heartbeat, and a worryingly high blood pressure.

Next to the bed stood a harried-looking man. His dark-blonde hair was flat and unwashed, and he clearly hadn’t shaved in days. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he didn’t appear to see or hear anything as he stared at the young man lying in bed. The boy’s soul was barely there, just a dark cloud of grays and blacks hovering around him, signaling that he was ready for reaping. The countdown of his remaining days right above his heart confirmed that: 42 days, 8 hours, 37 minutes and five, four, three… seconds left of his life. There were barely any shades of his original soul colors left, just a tiny bit of red on the edge of the cloud.

The contrast between the brothers was enormous. Castiel’s first impression of Dean Winchester was that the poor man needed a good night’s sleep. His second impression was that despite his sad appearance, Dean Winchester’s soul was brighter than the rays of sun breaking through the hospital windows. The greens and golds Castiel had followed through space and time were even more striking in person.

[But the biggest surprise was the glittery air dancing around Dean’s soul.](https://imgur.com/WH8EX7L)

Castiel had never seen such a disparity between an estimated life force and the real one. Dean had been marked as a desperation deal. He shouldn’t have had a single day over his natural life force. And yet, there it was, glittering on the edges of Dean’s soul and making it even brighter than it was, a hundred and twenty years of extra life force.

Castiel blinked, and concentrated on the glittery air again. He had to be mistaken. Castiel had worked as a reaper for thousands of years, and he had never seen anyone with a _hundred and twenty_ additional years to their natural life force. But there it was, right before his eyes. Dean could live twice, and there would still be years left over. Someone in the soul crafting department had been fired over that mistake, surely.

Rachel’s assignment scroll had gravely misunderstood Dean’s case. If Castiel managed to get even half of those years, he would be making a record-breaking deal. It was a record he would be glad to break: the previous record had been set by Crowley, who had tricked a young woman out of thirty-five years. Negotiating reapers weren’t supposed to “freestyle,” as his friend Balthazar called it, because they could easily disrupt plans and fates set up by directing angels. Crowley had been famously fired and, worse, banished, when it turned out that the woman was supposed to give birth to a girl who would go on to save a man’s life, who in turn would marry a woman and have a child who would invent vaccines. Human lives were such a tangled thread that Castiel saw no need to deviate from his orders. It was better to follow the assignments than try to pick out the correct threads of fate by looking at the mortal’s soul.

Dean’s soul was so extraordinary, though, that Castiel should have canceled the assignment. He should have flown back to his realm and reported his findings, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Dean Winchester’s radiant soul. He’s never seen anything like it, and at this stage, it was difficult to surprise him anymore. He enjoyed it, the strange newness of it.

What’s more, it dawned on him that he could easily save Dean’s brother now. Dean wouldn’t have to sacrifice a single day for that much extra energy. Castiel would gladly heal his brother without taking anything out of Dean’s raw life force, even if that was against the rules. With a fragment of Dean’s extra years, Castiel could fill Kevin Tran’s soul easily.

Dean Winchester moved closer to the bed, and Castiel shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Sammy,” Dean said, in a low voice. “Could you wake up?” He swallowed. “Please?”

Castiel felt sadness tug his heart. Just because he was a reaper didn’t mean that he didn’t feel for the humans he encountered – on the contrary, he often carried much of their despair, anxiety, and frustration with him.

“It’s not fair,” Dean mumbled. “It should’ve been me.”

Castiel frowned. He had seen this in many humans before, especially in desperation deals – a willingness to sacrifice themselves that almost bordered on martyrdom – but with the way Dean Winchester’s soul shone, so brightly, it felt like a warning sign.

Still, unwilling to wait, he made himself visible on the mortal plane, appearing on the other side of the bed.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean, to his credit, didn’t faint. But he did wince, stumble backwards, and then proceeded to throw the nearest object at Castiel. It happened to be a vase full of daisies, and the flowers pathetically flopped in the air and fell all over the sleeping boy’s body. The boy didn’t stir, not even when the cold water seeped into his bed. Castiel caught the small vase, suspending it mid-air with magic.

Dean’s eyes widened at that. “What the—what the fuck are you?”

“My name is Castiel. I am a grim reaper.”

“Bull—bullshit. You guys—you don’t…exist.” Dean stared at the vase, hovering in the air, and then looked at Castiel, from head to toe. His eyes lingered on Castiel’s wings, and although Castiel was used to the looks he received from mortals when he first appeared, Dean’s attention was almost stifling. Castiel raised his wings, letting Dean get a good look at the black, bat wing-like appendages. Finally, the man lowered his gaze.

“Seems like those hallucinations finally caught up to me,” Dean muttered to himself. “Should’ve listened to that doc who told me to cut back drinking.”

“The doctor is right, although I’m not a hallucination,” Castiel said. He carefully lowered the vase in the air until he could reach it by hand, and placed it on the floor. “I am a reaper.”

“Appearing to the wrong man here, buddy,” Dean laughed humorlessly. “Or, what, are you here to take me to hell, too? Two Winchesters at the price of one?”

“Hell is such an outdated concept,” Castiel grouched. He would have thought that such delusions wouldn’t exist in the 2000s anymore, but mortals were amusingly resilient in their beliefs. “And I’m not here for…Sammy’s soul.”

Dean went silent for a moment, looking at Castiel with suspicion. When Castiel met his eyes, peacefully looking back, some of the suspicion seemed to wane.

“Right, I’ll humor you. You’re not real, anyway. None of the others were, either. If you’re a reaper, isn’t your job description to collect souls?”

Castiel would have asked what Dean meant by “the others,” but the challenging way Dean looked at him made him skip over that.

“No.”

“No?”

“I work in negotiations, not collecting,” Castiel replied, taking some amusement from the way Dean’s face slacked with confusion. “It’s not your time to go, Dean, and I’m not here for your soul. Not exactly.”

Dean frowned again, eyes flicking to Castiel’s wings before returning to look Castiel straight in the eye.

“‘Not exactly.’ What’s that mean?”

“Your brother is very sick, isn’t he?” Castiel asked. He tried to keep his voice as sympathetic as possible, but Dean didn’t believe him. He moved closer to Sam’s bed, as if to protect it in case Castiel attacked. Castiel tried to lower his wings, make himself look more approachable, not threatening, but Dean still glared at him.

“What of it?”

“Our branch specializes in humans with desperate needs,” Castiel said, ready to launch into the speech he always did, explaining to the human the terms of their deals and, if there was enough interest, the short history of organized grim reapers. Before he could do that, though, Dean had already opened his mouth to speak.

“Wait, what the fuck. A branch? So there’s an actual company of…demons?”

“I’m not a demon,” Castiel said, offended by the mere thought of it. “I already told you, I’m a reaper.”

“Same thing!”

“It really isn’t,” Castiel said, now exasperated. “Demons steal souls for their own nefarious dealings. We reapers work with death, and the balance of souls death creates.”

Dean blinked. Castiel could tell that Dean didn’t really understand what Castiel had meant by the balance of souls, but as before, before Castiel could explain, Dean barged on forward.

“Fine, you’re right. I want you to save Sam.”

“I can do that,” Castiel nodded.

“You can heal him?”

“I can,” Castiel said. Sam Winchester’s soul was deteriorating, more and more each second, and most reapers wouldn’t have offered that. Castiel wasn’t certain he could heal it, either, but Dean didn’t have to know that. Transferring Dean’s extra years to Sam would instantly heal his soul, and Castiel wouldn’t have to interfere with that.

“So what’s your deal? What do you want?” Dean asked. His soul rippled with colors as he talked, and Castiel was shortly paralyzed by the sight. For the first time in decades, he forgot what he was talking about.

“I, um, I usually offer people two options,” he faltered, automatically going for his usual speech, even if Dean’s case was special. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the green waves in the center of Dean’s soul, peacefully rolling back and forth.

“Wow, I get options, plural?” Dean said. Castiel ignored the sarcastic look and continued, now calm, because he was giving the same speech he always gave. He suppressed the view of Dean’s soul and tried to concentrate on the mortal plane, somewhat hiding the radiant soul from view.

“Option one is called Number.”

“You want my number? Because pal, lemme tell you, this is kind of a bad moment.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t as cute as you think it is,” Castiel said, hiding a smile. Under the haggard appearance and tired eyes, Dean was very handsome indeed. It was impossible not to notice that.

Castiel coughed and continued, “Number means I’ll take a certain number of days off of your life – your life force, energy, soul, whatever you want to call it – and add them to your brother’s.”

Dean frowned. “And you want nothing in return for that?”

“A cut of those years would go to me.”

“Right,” Dean said, anger in his eyes. “So that’s why you’re doing this? To get your rocks off?”

“I don’t intend to…get my rocks off. It is my job to keep the balance of souls right,” Castiel said, eager to explain, but Dean talked over him again. Dean probably wouldn’t have cared about his track record and how Castiel could rise enough in the ranks to get an apartment of his own if he did enough successful assignments, anyway.

“I’m not giving you a day of my life. So what’s the second option?”

“Name,” Castiel said, surprised that he got this far. “Meaning, you give me your True Name.”

“And…that’s it?”

“Not quite. I will still transfer the desired amount of days to your brother’s life, but instead of your life force, you will be giving me your True Name, the name of your soul.”

Castiel rarely got to this part. Most people chose Number, especially when they were explained just how much extra days they had attached to their soul. Even those who were in despair didn’t want to share their True Name, and Castiel understood that. It was the last thing they had, the last thread they could grasp onto.

“And what’re you gonna do with my… True Name?”

Castiel thought how to put it gently. Mortals often didn’t react well to this part. “The name is symbolic. It means that instead of your life force, I’ll ask you to work for me.”

“Body and soul, right? Choose one?” Dean shook his head. “Wow, didn’t think I had enough imagination for this. So this is like, what, in fairy tales? You gimme something, I give you something?”

“You have a funny view of fairy tales, but in essence, yes. And I can assure you that I am very real, Dean,” Castiel tried to say, but Dean was already talking.

“Hell, I don’t even need to think about it. I’m going with option two. I’ll give you my Name. Don’t need it, anyway.”

Castiel’s heart started to beat uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure what was happening – he hadn’t even explained to Dean how many extra years he had and how he didn’t have to sacrifice anything in order to save his brother.

“Dean, I don’t think you understand what you’re agreeing to here.”

“Look, pal, I understand perfectly. I just don’t care. Take whatever you want. Just save Sammy’s life.”

“That’s not what I—”

“You’re not real, anyway. Just a hallucination, like all the other times. What do I got to lose?”

“But, Dean, I haven’t yet explained to you—”

“Look, I’m not giving you days off my life, I’m not an idiot.”

“In order to make an informed decision, I advise you to—”

“Yeah, I’ve never taken advice from my hallucinations, and I’m not gonna start now. I don’t care what happens to me, as long as Sammy’s healthy. So take my Name, and heal Sammy, for fuck’s sake!”

“Dean, we haven’t yet discussed the terms of—”

“It’s Dean Henry Winchester, born to John Elmer Winchester and Mary Diana Campbell! I’m giving you my Name, so heal Sammy already so that he’ll live to be one hundred and stays healthy!”

Castiel had never done a deal with a hysterical human, or one that wasn’t willing to listen. Unlike some of his colleagues, he preferred that the humans he made deals with were fully aware of what they were signing up for, so that nothing would come as a nasty surprise to them when it was time to collect. That was what made him so good at his job – no one needed to cancel the deals he made, or correct his mistakes, because he rarely, if ever, did any. He hadn’t had a bad deal in centuries, and even the last one that had to be corrected was because he’d underestimated the cowardice of the human. Castiel prided himself on his work, and he wasn’t going to make a deal with Dean Winchester, either. Dean was in over his head – he wasn’t listening to Castiel, wasn’t aware of what it truly meant to give your True Name.

Unfortunately, Dean had unwittingly chosen the exact words to seal the deal.

Before Castiel could stop it, his magic came surging out, and blue light enclosed both him and Dean. Dean’s soul started to glimmer, different hues of green, blue, and orange, shining brighter than any other soul Castiel had ever seen in his long, long life. Castiel couldn’t pull back the contract magic, even if he tried. Dean had said the correct words, and he was perfectly willing, so none of the preventive magic seals that Castiel always put in place worked. The blue flash of light formed a thread, binding them both together, from heart to heart, and for a single beat, Castiel felt the bond tug his heart towards Dean’s. Then, as suddenly as the magic had appeared, it simmered down and disappeared with a final glint in the air.

Castiel stared at Dean Winchester. He looked the same as before the deal, his soul shining just as brightly as before, except for one little detail. There had been a countdown of the years, months and days left in his life before right over his heart, and that was now gone. In place of the countdown, there was now a strange series of numbers and letters: 24011979A120521C180908-VUF.

Castiel had never seen a True Name before, because he didn’t have a high enough clearance, but there was no mistaking a mark like that. Dean’s True Name pulsed, almost as if calling out to Castiel. Subconsciously, Castiel took a step towards Dean, before he caught himself and froze.

“Was that you? All that...light show?” Dean asked. “And that—that thread? What the fuck was that?”

“You...you could see that?” Castiel asked, shocked. He didn’t know what to concentrate on first – the fact that he had finally made a deal for True Name, for the first time in his career as a reaper, or the fact that he was now literally bound to a mortal, with magic – and instead, got stuck on the detail that Dean could see magic. Mortals usually couldn’t, and especially not inter-dimensional magic. Then again, Castiel shouldn’t have been surprised, given Dean’s unique soul and the brightness of it.

Dean stared at him, but then, as if pushing Castiel from his mind, he turned to Sam. He still looked the same, the ventilator going off every few seconds, breathing life into his withering body.

“What about Sammy?” Dean whispered.

Right then, the monitors started to beep loudly. Sam’s heart-rate was increasing, and his eyes started to move under the lids. Dean gasped and leaned closer to the sleeping boy.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s…he’s healing,” Castiel managed to say. He wasn’t doing anything, but his magic was surging out, adamant to fill his part of the contract.

“Sam?” Dean leaned closer to Sam’s body, grasping at the boys hands. “C’mon, Sammy, wake up!”

The monitors were still in uproar. Castiel didn’t know what to do – his magic had a mind of its own, moving around Sam and lighting up the gray-dark shades of his dying soul. Sam’s soul turned from nearly black to brown, then slowly regained its original colors, brilliant red and ivory white. It wasn’t as bright as Dean’s soul, but still very pretty, and indefinitely more healthy than the dark cloud that had been hanging around him when Castiel first entered.

“Sam,” Dean mumbled. He rubbed Sam’s hands, gently trying to wake the boy up. “Where’s that nurse when you need her… Sam?”

The monitors went quiet. Sam’s heart-rate stabilized, and then, slowly, Sam’s fingers moved against Dean’s. Dean gasped, grasping Sam’s hands again, but the boy went motionless.

There was a short silence. When nothing happened – Sam didn’t open his eyes – Dean mumbled something to himself and sighed. Then he seemed to remember that Castiel was in the room, and turned to face him.

“What just happened?”

Castiel had no answers. He knew what had happened, but that didn’t explain the why. Why couldn’t he prevent it, was more prominently on his mind. He couldn’t say anything.

Dean was still staring at him. Castiel couldn’t take it.

“I—I need to…consult my colleagues,” Castiel managed to stammer, and then, for the first time in five hundred years, he fled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to get the images working, so I linked starmouse123's artwork in the text, since it would be a shame not to show them. The links are here, too:
> 
>  
> 
> [Castiel](https://imgur.com/kWhGBSo)  
> [Dean](https://imgur.com/WH8EX7L)
> 
>  
> 
> Or in the masterpost [here](http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/post/180038579555/dont-fear-the-reaper-ii-dcbb-2018-ii-art).


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel couldn’t remember it, but he hadn’t always been a reaper. Reapers weren’t born, they were made, but by whom and how, no one really knew. Nor questioned it: compared to other realms, their universe was neatly arranged and worked just fine. Those who were curious enough had formed theories about why angels, reapers, demons, and other entities existed, and the usual hypothesis was that they were demoted gods, or offspring of the various gods, goddesses, spirits and demigods populating the thousand realms. Secretly, Castiel had always thought that he must have been a human in his previous life. He felt an affinity with mortals that he didn’t hold for other supernatural beings or gods, although he did love his brothers and sisters.

Castiel toyed with a pocket watch in his hands, absently trying to fix the hands that were stuck, and thought that he’d never felt more like a mortal before. Confused, small, and hiding from heavenly wrath.

The pocket universe that Castiel was currently hiding in was his own little secret. Reapers had large settlements where they all rested and dined together, but Castiel had always found the settlements restless. You couldn’t think in there, nor find a moment’s peace, and since everything was shared, from mess halls to sleeping chambers, it was impossible to store any personal items anywhere. Not that reapers were allowed any personal items. Depending on their rank, they lived their whole life in communes, with no privileges to individual traits or possessions, and only got the privileges to personal items or apartments if they rose in the ranks high enough. Usually only directors, the highest rank, displayed any signs of individual thought or need for personal space. Castiel, as a negotiator, wasn’t high enough rank to crave for a room of his own or to be collecting mementos, but he was unique in that way. Truthfully, he’d always felt different from his peers, but he was smart enough to not mention it.

The pocket universe Castiel had created had taken a lot of magical crafting, and was the most complicated thing he’d ever done. The pocket universe was hidden between time lines, just between the wedge of 551 and 550 BCE in China. It was small, but it held everything he needed, from a comfortable reclining chair to a table, a TV, a laptop, and a bookshelf full of trinkets that he’d collected over the years. His friends didn’t understand his “sentimentality,” as Balthazar called it, for human things. If they knew, they would have mercilessly mocked him for his habit of collecting mementos. Not to mention, him owning any of these mementos was forbidden, as he didn’t have the rank for it. But Castiel didn’t care. From those thousands of deals he’d made with mortals, he liked to check in on the memorable cases, and perhaps take something from their time to remember them. Thus, the bookshelf was filled with mishmash of things: feathers, various rocks, dried flowers, CDs, vinyls, books, watches, notebooks, pens, top hats… To anyone else, it would have looked like a graveyard of junk. To Castiel, it was a graveyard of memories.

Castiel had settled down on the chair, stretching his leathery wings as wide as he could, and was tinkering with a watch he’d taken from a man in 1754. It was useless – the watch wouldn’t work anymore – but it gave Castiel something to do with his hands as he thought about his situation and how he could ever get away with it.

Castiel did not want to tell about his True Name deal to anyone, especially his superior Naomi. But even if he had tried to hide the truth, he was certain the whole realm already knew that something strange had happened. That kind of explosive, deep soul magic didn’t go unnoticed by any reaper or angel who was even half-competent.

Castiel dreaded the consequences. Although not forbidden, True Name deals had fallen out of favor for a reason, and he hadn’t heard of anyone voluntarily making a True Name deal in at least a few centuries. Making a True Name deal was very rare, because most humans correctly calculated their pros and cons: giving a few extra years off of their life, or offer the rest of their natural lifetime to service the reapers? For most, there was no contest. No one wanted to give their soul to the care of a reaper, because it meant that the reaper in question was given access to the most visceral level of them – by knowing their True Name, the reaper would control the human, would give them whatever tasks to complete, and the human could not physically say no. If they could do it, they had to do it, because the soul bond between the reaper and the human forced them to.

But there were little incentives for reapers themselves, too: who wanted to be magically bound to a human, to take care of them for the rest of their natural lifetime, to continuously look after them, and only get the satisfaction of making them do some minor chores in return? Mortals could do tasks that reapers couldn’t in the human world, since reapers could only appear to people they were planning to make a deal with. They were convenient at manipulating other mortals, but that was about it. Mortals had no magic, couldn’t make deal on the reapers’ behalf, and modern mortals couldn’t even spread the word, since so few believed in the supernatural anymore. What once had been a useful servant to manipulate other people on the mortal plane was now just a confusing pet no one wanted to take care of.

But, despite all of this, shamefully, there was another thought rummaging around Castiel’s brain. This bond was unique. It made  _Castiel_ unique. It was something that no other reaper had. This was Castiel’s alone, his special connection, however accidental and forced. He alone had a True Name deal, a bond to a mortal.

Castiel wasn’t sure he would be able to let go of that.

Castiel could feel a flash of annoyance dancing in the space between universes, and he knew it was an unofficial summons from his superior Naomi. Resigned, Castiel stood up. He needed to face Naomi, and the consequences, sooner or later, and he preferred a direct confrontation to hiding.

 

* * *

 

Naomi had been Castiel’s superior, his controller, for the last three centuries. For reapers, it was not a long time. For Castiel, though, it felt like an eternal moment of annoyance that just wouldn’t pass.

Naomi was obviously good at what she did – she never would’ve risen through the ranks from a cleaner to a controller otherwise – but Castiel had never liked her style. She was a stickler for rules, was always complaining to Castiel about mistakes that he might’ve made but hadn’t, and disliked him using his magic to help mortals. Castiel had never seen the reason to hold back his magic. He wasn’t one of the best negotiating reapers just because of his tactics, but because of his strong magic. He could promise miraculous things and actually deliver on them. Not all reapers could have fixed Sam Winchester’s soul, for example. Castiel was proud of that, if nothing else.

Naomi’s office was situated in the working district, right in the middle of Castiel’s least favorite place in the whole realm. He rarely came here except to be chastised by his superiors, and he wasn’t looking forward to this session, either.

“Castiel,” Naomi said when he entered her office. There was no other greeting, except maybe a little nod of her little brown wings. She eyed him in silence, then looked away, as if bored. “We’ll talk about what happened out there in a moment. Please give me your status report.”

Castiel rattled off the report of his previous assignments in a dull voice, and Naomi listened with equal boredom. They both knew they were putting off the inevitable, but it was safer to fall into the usual routine.

“And how much have you collected?” Naomi asked then, cutting off Castiel. Wordlessly, Castiel waved his wing, pulling out the stored life force from the travel pocket. The shimmering bottles flew onto Naomi’s desk, arranging themselves by color, and the colorful line of them made Castiel almost smile, despite the circumstances. The sight of such power made him always feel respectful, even wary – that he had control over something like this, the pieces of life that would become new persons to fill the mortal plane.

Naomi was less impressed with his collection. “Is this all?”

“I’ve completed all my assignments and gotten the suggested amounts.”

“You must’ve made a mistake,” Naomi said. Her critical eye assessed the bottles. “This is not enough for Kevin and Linda Tran.”

Castiel frowned. “My orders were to collect only for Kevin Tran. There was no mention of Linda Tran.”

“You’ve misheard, then,” Naomi said, “because I’m sure I would’ve mentioned collecting also for his mother.”

Castiel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He couldn’t believe he had made such a critical error – and felt even more disappointed that he hadn’t gotten even a few decades from Dean Winchester.

Naomi wrapped her wing around the bottles, and they disappeared into her charmed pocket of the universe. “Now, Castiel. Your latest assignment. What happened out there?”

“I made a True Name deal,” Castiel said.

“I see that,” Naomi said. Her eyes lingered uncomfortably on Castiel’s chest. “Why?”

“He suggested it himself.”

“How on earth,” Naomi said, tone clipped, “could a mortal suggest a True Name deal himself?”

_By accident_ , was the only answer Castiel could give. Naomi wouldn’t have liked it, so instead, Castiel said,

“He didn’t understand the deal. I was trying to negotiate him for his extra hundred and twenty years, and he chose the wrong option.”

Naomi blinked, suddenly surprised. “He had…one hundred and twenty years attached to him?”

“Yes.”

“That…” Naomi seemed speechless for a moment. “Very well. Continue.”

Naomi was not happy with the rest of the report. She looked at him with barely concealed rage, and Castiel could understand that. He had completely failed his assignment. Dean Winchester still had over a hundred extra years to his life, and Castiel hadn’t been able to correct the balance. Those hundred and twenty years were affecting someone else – some other mortal out there had too few years, would die sooner, because someone had made a mistake and put their energy into Dean Winchester’s soul. Instead of correcting a mistake, Castiel had created a new one. He was now strapped to a mortal soul.

“Castiel,” Naomi sighed when he finished his report. “Are you aware of when the last True Name deal was made?”

“A few centuries ago,” Castiel reluctantly answered.

“Exactly. And why are they so rare?”

“Because mortals became smarter.”

“They didn’t become anything, Castiel. They are as they ever were. But these deals distract reapers from their work. This…this bond you’ve forged, marks you as different.” Naomi gave him a look that told that the difference was visible. That was curious; reapers didn’t have a soul, but something must’ve appeared different about Castiel’s tiny spirit. “The human takes up time you could spend working, and gives nothing in return. And as per director Michael’s orders, deals like this should be avoided. Besides, Castiel,” Naomi looked him straight in the eye, “You know you haven’t reached enough deals for any directorial privileges, even for a useless human pet.”

“Dean is not useless,” Castiel found himself protesting. He couldn’t protest anything else Naomi had said, but calling someone like Dean ‘useless’ was a step too far. The mortal had, although erroneously, traded his life for his brother’s. Someone like that didn’t sound ‘useless.’

“He’s a mortal, Castiel,” Naomi continued. “He’s a part of your work, and your job was to get those extra years from him. Now he’s taking life from someone else.”

She sighed in frustration. Castiel refrained from saying anything, since she looked more annoyed than ever.

“Very well,” Naomi then said. “The deal will need to be canceled. Bring him here and we’ll detain him.”

_Detain him?_ Castiel’s eyes snapped up at that.

“You mean to imprison his soul?”

“Of course,” Naomi said. “You made a mistake, and that needs to be corrected. His surplus life force will need to be harvested for proper use.”

“He has already made a deal. His soul can’t be harvested without fracturing it,” Castiel protested. He was surprised and disappointed that Naomi would even suggest such a thing. Negotiating reapers existed precisely so that souls wouldn’t be fractured when collecting life force – taking it out forcefully would rupture the entire soul, and in the worst case, destroy it. Surely even such an anomaly as Dean Winchester’s hundred and twenty years shouldn’t mean that Dean had to suffer for it.

“Then you need to terminate the bond, Castiel. You should have never done it in the first place.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Castiel tried to say, but Naomi’s cold look stopped him from saying anything more.

“The mistake is yours. It is your duty to correct it. Your orders were clear – get his life force. Keeping him under the control of the True Name resolves nothing.”

“Neither does detaining him and harvesting his soul,” Castiel argued.

“Wouldn’t you rather return to normal, Castiel?” Naomi asked. “Why step out of line for a mere mortal?”

Castiel had no answer for that. He had no strong feelings about Dean Winchester – he barely knew the mortal – but he had no tolerance for injustice. Ripping out Dean Winchester’s soul after he had been marked would fracture it, and he couldn’t let that happen. The mortal hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t even understood what he was doing. He shouldn’t be the one to suffer for Castiel’s mistake.

“Do _not_ be ridiculous, Castiel,” Naomi said, tone now dangerous. “You need to stay on your lane. You do not have any privileges at your rank, and you certainly haven’t earned this one.”

“Then I’m _taking_ the privilege.”

“Castiel,” Naomi said, “I am ordering you to terminate the bond.”

“I refuse,” Castiel said, looking steadily back.

Naomi gave him a harsh look. “You are hereby suspended from all of your duties, until you correct your mistake. There is no need to come back here until you do.”

Tensely, Castiel nodded. He didn’t leave Naomi’s office by turning and walking out of the door, but instead, flew outside. It may have been a small act of rebellion, to show disrespect to his superior like that, but at that moment, Castiel didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

Because reapers weren’t born but made, conjured into existence as if an author had simply laid a pen to their notebook, there weren’t any familiar bonds between them. Some reapers were closer than others because they got along so well, and some became close because they had been around each other for so long that it was impossible to ignore that kind of bond forged in time. Balthazar was Castiel’s closest friend, simply because they had mere three centuries between them, and once Balthazar had latched onto Castiel, he’d never let go. Gabriel, on the other hand, was older than Castiel, and liked to call Castiel his cousin, if only to rile him up. Castiel never said it out loud, but he fully realized that the three of them gravitated towards each other because among reapers, they were strange – they all enjoyed the human world a little bit too much, albeit all in different ways.

Thus, it was only logical that Castiel sought advice from the only reapers that he could hope to understand his dilemma. Naomi’s orders were still ringing in his head, and Castiel couldn’t believe it was the only option there was.

Balthazar was a negotiator like Castiel, and thus, didn’t have his own apartment, and while Gabriel was a director and had his own place, he usually hung out with Balthazar and Castiel in one of the common rooms in settlement 356. This time was no exception. Balthazar and Gabriel were lounging on one of the plush sofas, taking up so much space that all other reapers glared at them and chose to sit somewhere else. Gabriel, being a full-blooded angel rather than a reaper, couldn’t have cared less. He liked to flaunt his obvious powers and his golden bird-like wings, strikingly different from all the other bat-like reaper wings in the room.

“Done with the day’s work already, Cas?” Gabriel asked. He was eating gummy bears, throwing them in the air and catching the candy with his mouth. Balthazar wrinkled his nose at the display, but unlike other reapers glaring at them, he didn’t disapprove of Gabriel for enjoying mortal things – he just thought gummy bears were an abomination of candy. They’d had that particular debate many times.

“Yes,” Castiel said. He took a seat next to Balthazar, who spread his brown wings so that they gently nudged against Castiel’s. Castiel didn’t answer the touch, and Balthazar picked up on it immediately.

“What’s wrong, Cassie? You’re usually much more jolly after the day is done.”

“I am never jolly,” Castiel said.

“I don’t know about that. You couldn’t stop laughing that one time I showed you that card trick.”

“Balthazar, that was only because you screwed it up, and burned Raphael’s wings.” Castiel couldn’t help a little snort, much to Gabriel and Balthazar’s amusement. “I’ve never seen her so angry.”

“Those were just minor burns! She had nothing to complain about.”

“Those burns lasted for a year.”

“She only had herself to blame. She could’ve healed them, but _noooo_ , she had to go around showing them like they were battle scars,” Balthazar scoffed.

It went unmentioned that any one of them would have done the same thing. Individual markers among reapers were few and far between.

“Now, really, Cas, what’s got you so grumpy?”

“That’s just his face,” Gabriel commented, but Castiel chose to ignore that.

“I might have made a mistake,” Castiel began.

“You? Make a mistake? Why, I never!” Balthazar laughed, but when Castiel didn’t return the amusement, he stopped. “Cas, what did you do?”

“I…I made a deal for True Name.”

“Cas!” Gabriel nearly choked on his gummy bears. “Holy hell, bro, that’s amazing! That’ll show up in your yearly bonus!”

Castiel frowned. “It’s far from amazing. Michael has advised against True Name deals.”

“Pfft, he’s got a stick in his ass so far that it’s preventing him from seeing a good deal in front of him. He’s too set in his ways. Can’t you imagine the possibilities of owning a human?” Gabriel grinned.

“I always knew you were good, darling, but this is extraordinary.” Balthazar smiled. Castiel couldn’t share his enthusiasm.

“What...what do I do now?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Balthazar nudged their wings together again, grinning. “Take care of your new human, of course! Your very own human!”

Castiel frowned at him. “What exactly do you think the True Name deal means?”

“Uhh, getting your own status pet? Something no one else has?”

Castiel glanced at Gabriel, pleading for a better answer, but he only shrugged. “He ain’t wrong. There’s no set protocol for taking care of your human.”

“His name is Dean,” Castiel snapped. He didn’t like the attitude Gabriel and Balthazar were taking.

“Alright, darling, you got your new pet – Dean, that’s a lovely name – so why are you so gloom? This is the first Name deal in centuries!”

“Because Dean doesn’t know what the deal means,” Castiel sighed. “He signed up before I could stop it.”

“Didn’t think you’d use Crowley’s methods,” Balthazar joked, but winced as Castiel threw him a glare. He would hand over his scythe before be stooped as low as Crowley. (Metaphorically hand over his scythe, of course – as a negotiator, he didn’t have one. And all reapers had stopped using scythes a several centuries ago, since apparently, they frightened mortals.)

Balthazar leaned closer to him. “Is that a problem for you? You’ve never been a stickler for rules before.”

“Just like us! Welcome to the fun brigade!” Gabriel cheered.

“I refuse to be dumped in the same category as you,” Castiel shot back. Balthazar shrugged; he wasn’t bothered about being in the lowest tier of negotiating reapers. He had never had any motivation or drive to do his job, only did the barest minimum so he wouldn’t be demoted to a collector or worse, a cleaner.

“Like it or not, here you are,” Balthazar said.

“Naomi ordered me to terminate the bond,” Castiel said. That, finally, got their attention.

“Terminate?” Gabriel asked. The gummy bear he’d been eating fell from his mouth and landed on his lap with a disgusting splatter. “That’s a little harsh.”

“And would fracture his soul,” Castiel added, dryly. “I refused. There has to be another way to cancel the deal.”

Gabriel and Balthazar both looked at him, stunned into silence. Then, they both grinned.

“Atta boy,” Gabriel said. “I never liked her style, anyway.”

“But that’s not the actual problem, is it?” Balthazar asked then. For once, he seemed to get that Castiel was distraught by the situation, and reeled in the inappropriate jokes that Castiel knew he was dying to spout.

“I don’t understand how this could happen, is all,” Castiel said.

“You were really good with your mouth?”

Balthazar’s tactfulness could only run so deep, it seemed.

“What do I do with him?”

“Whatever you want, darling. That’s the point of True Name. You have a name, you control them.”

“I have no use for a human subordinate,” Castiel grouched. “If I need help, I ask Samandriel to assist me.”

“If you don’t want him, darling, I can think of a few uses for him that third-tier Samandriel isn’t willing to fulfill,” Balthazar grinned.

Castiel ignored Balthazar’s lecherous grin. Not because the thought of laying with a mortal was disgusting, but because this was a completely inappropriate situation for those thoughts. Gabriel and Balthazar weren’t taking the situation seriously.

“I don’t understand why none of my protective wards worked.” He was certain that they had been in place when he had arrived to Dean’s time. “Maybe there is something curious about his timeline?”

Some reapers had trouble with their magic in certain years or places, due to the wobbly nature of time. Some events in time were fixed, but not all, and it took skill to know how to work your magic around different universes. Still, Castiel had never had any trouble with magic, anywhere.

“Huh,” Gabriel said. He eyed Castiel curiously, then picked up the gummy bear that had fallen into his lap, and popped it into his mouth. “So why aren’t you already looking into that?”

“Naomi has suspended me from duty. I suppose that means I can’t leave the realm.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Gabriel said, eyes twinkling. “Screw Naomi. I’m using my directorial status and saying you’re un-suspended, or whatever it is. The other way around. Don’t come back from the mortal plane until you’ve sorted this out with your human. Stay bonded, or find a way to cancel it, whatever.”

“But—”

“Like it or not, he’s your responsibility now, Cas,” Balthazar said.

“I know,” Castiel said. He’d pulled Dean Winchester into this mess, and it was his duty to sort it out. “Gabriel, do you think you could cancel the deal?”

As a director, most of Gabriel’s time was spent looking over the soul crafters and controllers, who in turn handed out assignments to negotiators, collectors, and cleaners. Gabriel’s main job was to write scripts for human lives, but like Balthazar, he had no passion for his job, and only did it “for laughs,” as he said. Still, Gabriel was higher in hierarchy, and maybe he could see something in Dean’s soul that Castiel hadn’t.

“Not promising anything, sugar,” Gabriel said. “This a curious case. It’s not every day you see a bonded human. But bring that hunk of yours around and I’ll take a look.”

“Typical Cas,” Balthazar muttered. “Universe hands you a gift, and you try to return it. You could at least try to let yourself enjoy this, for a while.”

Castiel ignored Balthazar. The mortifying thing was, even if he didn’t say it, the curiosity of what he could now make Dean do had passed his mind once or twice, before he firmly pushed those thoughts aside.

He buried the satisfaction he felt at the bond somewhere very deep inside. It was shameful to feel pride over it, when he had done nothing to deserve it. He’d find a way to cancel the bond without putting Dean in danger.

 

* * *

 

Castiel suspected that Naomi was already on her way to tell director Michael about the situation, so he thought it best to avoid that particular confrontation, and rather took to flight towards Dean. This time, he didn’t even have to look for Dean’s soul colors in the vastness of time lines. He could feel the soul bond like a thread between them, gently tugging Castiel towards the other end. It was like a compass, unerringly pointing to the right direction.

Castiel landed in a kitchen in a suburban home. He blinked, unsure; this wasn’t where he had intended to be. But the pull of the magical thread between him and Dean remained the same, even stronger now. There was no mistaking that Dean was close.

Castiel turned around, eyeing the kitchen, and then the house. The house was worn down with time: signs of that were evident in the floorboards, walls, and furniture, but it still looked warm and inviting. Castiel had barely stepped out of the kitchen into the living room and absorbed the view, when someone came in through the backyard door.

“Castiel!” Dean came to a halt. He had been cleaning his hands with a rag when he stepped in, but now stopped doing that, too. His hands fell to his sides, and he looked at Castiel like he had never seen him before, like he was some strange mirage.

“You’re real,” Dean said, quietly. “You’re really real.”

“You…doubted that?” Castiel felt more unsettled by the minute. If Dean hadn’t even believed in him, how on earth had his magic accepted the deal? Dean had clearly not been able to consent, if he had thought Castiel to be a hallucination and had been under a lot of stress, nearly hysterical.

“Wasn’t sure,” Dean murmured. A small smile made its way to his face, and that abated some of Castiel worries. “I thought you were a hallucination, or, or a fidget of my imagination. I’ve had those before.”

“You’ve hallucinated before?”

Dean didn’t answer. He was still looking at Castiel, curiosity written on his face. His eyes slowly traveled over every facet of Castiel’s body, lingering a long while on his wings. Castiel straightened up and stretched his wings when he saw that. Dean had washed his hair, changed his clothes and shaved, and the way he shone inside and outside made Castiel want to take a step back, so he wouldn't get burned. Dean looked good, and although Castiel had never been interested in mortals, he was certain he had been one once, and wasn’t an idiot. Dean looked distractingly good.

“I wasn’t…sure,” Dean muttered. “But there was nothing else to believe, either. The doctors couldn’t explain it. Had no idea how Sammy could regain consciousness so—suddenly.”

“Sam has regained consciousness?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, looking Castiel strangely. “It’s been five days.”

“Five days?” Castiel blinked. “I’m sorry. I must have overshot my destination.”

“Sammy was released yesterday,” Dean said. His smile only widened. “Fully cured, they said. No lasting damage. So whatever you did…thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Castiel said. He averted Dean’s gaze.

“Right,” Dean coughed. He walked past Castiel towards the kitchen, and Castiel had no choice but to follow. Once in the kitchen, Dean placed the rag on the counter and turned to face Castiel. “So. Since you’re real, I guess the other part is real, too.”

“I’m afraid so,” Castiel nodded.

“So you’re here to collect your reward.”

“It is related to that, yes,” Castiel started, unsure how to broach the subject. “I came to…discuss that.”

Dean simply laughed. Sam’s health restored, he seemed to have lost all of his worries in the world, including his initial hesitation of reapers.

“Negotiating again? You’re kind of a bad demon, anyone ever tell you that?”

“As I already explained, I’m not a demon,” Castiel sighed, “I’m a reaper. We’re a sub-species of angels.”

“Right, as if that makes sense,” Dean snorted.

Annoyed, Castiel flexed his wings, and some primal satisfaction went through him like a spark when he saw Dean’s eyes track the movement with interest.

“I never finished telling you what the True Name deal really means.”

“Uhh, you kinda did. You give me something, I give you something, right? Didn’t we agree on that?”

“Dean, it’s not that simple.”

“What’s not simple? You gave Sammy his health back, now you take something from me.”

“If you would have listened to me from the start, you might not have taken the deal.”

Dean frowned. “Kinda late to spring the small print on me, buddy. I think I liked you better when you were a hallucination.”

“As I was trying to tell you from the start, all the deals are related to the balance of—”

“Souls, yeah, yeah. So what?”

“Quiet, mortal!” Castiel snapped, patience finally run out. For such a brilliant soul, Dean was incessantly annoying. “I would tell you what it means, if you’d just listen to me!”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked attentively at Castiel. A rush of power went through Castiel, like a spark to his gut, and was then immediately followed by guilt.

He had commanded Dean to do something, and Dean had done it.

“Good,” Castiel said, trying to soften the blow. Dean was still looking at him, and Castiel couldn’t tell what the look was supposed to convey. “Could…could we please sit down? You might be more comfortable that way.”

“Um.” Dean slowly nodded. Satisfied with that, Castiel turned and took the few steps to the living room. There were two worn-out chairs and an equally worn-out couch there, as well as a TV set and a pile of movies on the floor. As everything in the house, they seemed comfortably worn, a little too old compared to how Dean seemed. Actually, Dean didn’t look like he fit the house – all the pieces in the house fit together, and Dean was the outsider. There was certainly a story in there, but Castiel didn’t think it was his place to ask.

Especially now.

Wordlessly, Dean took one of the chairs, and Castiel settled on the couch, since he could rest his wings on the backrest that way. Again, Dean’s eyes tracked the movement, an interested glint appearing when Castiel flicked his right wing, trying to shake out some of the itching there.

“I’m not here to literally take your soul as payment,” Castiel started, seeing how Dean was looking at him now – attentive, but a little suspicious. “As I told you, that’s not how we reapers operate. Our job is to maintain the balance of souls.”

Hesitantly, Dean nodded.

“Simply put, balance of souls means there’s a certain amount of life force in your universe. Little pieces of souls. Building material of life, if you will.”

“Like…Lego bricks?” Dean frowned. “Wait, no, that’s stupid. Forget I said that.”

“Actually, that’s a very apt analogy,” Castiel mused. “Imagine that your soul is a building of Lego bricks. At the end of your life, the building is demolished. The pieces are then used as building material for the next soul.”

“And… shaving off days from a life is, like, removing a single brick?”

“Exactly. If it’s a small brick, you won’t even notice it’s gone. But if it’s a big cornerstone…”

“Everything crumbles,” Dean said, now looking a little pale.

Castiel nodded. “Some souls are born with less material than others. Maybe someone in the soul crafting division made a mistake. Or maybe they were harmed during the first years of their life, when everything is still flexible, open to changes. Likewise, some are born with too much material.”

“So…you negotiate with people who have bricks to share.”

“Most of the time,” Castiel nodded. “And sometimes with those who ask for it, regardless of how little they have to give. It depends on how much they’re willing to sacrifice.”

“What if they have nothing to give?”

Castiel smiled, sadly. “Then the collecting division steps in to escort their soul to be prepared for the next life.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. “So...is this why you’re here? I should’ve taken the day deal? How much do I have left?”

“I tried to tell you,” Castiel said, exasperated. “You have more than enough time left. More than most, believe me.”

He didn’t think Dean would’ve appreciated just how unique it was to have over a hundred years of extra to his natural life, so he didn’t say that.

“Wait, so, you cheated. You didn’t tell me how much I have left!” Dean said, irritated.

“I would have told you if you wished, but you didn’t listen to me!”

“You made it sound like it was my life in exchange for Sammy’s!” Dean snapped. “And as crazy as I am, I’m not down for that. And now what? What do you even do with my Name? What favor do you want?”

“That’s the problem, Dean,” Castiel sighed. “It’s not a single favor. It’s a series of favors you can’t say no to.” He swallowed. “For the rest of your life.”

Dean stared at him. “I…I literally offered myself to you?” He pointed at his chest, and Castiel couldn’t help but notice how the green in his soul got a tad brighter just then, lighting up. “You—you own this Lego house now?”

“Yes.”

“And you can do whatever you want with it for…for the rest of my life?”

“Yes.”

Dean went silent. He stared at Castiel, and Castiel looked steadily back, even if he wasn’t feeling as certain on the inside. Whatever Dean saw made him scoff and avert his gaze. Castiel felt a pang to his chest – like someone had suddenly tugged on the string between him and Dean, trying to pull it away.

“Make no mistake, Dean,” Castiel said then, “I tried to prevent this.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean said. He didn’t look like he believed Castiel. “I liked it better when you were trying to take my soul.”

“I was never—” Castiel sighed. “I never wanted this.”

“Then cancel the damn deal.”

“I can’t,” Castiel said. Explaining mortals how soul magic actually worked was too complicated, so Castiel didn’t even try. He hadn’t wanted to tell Dean in case he felt pressured, but still, Castiel said, “If I remove the bond between us, your soul will crumble.”

Dean stared at him. His face was noticeably paler now. “And I’m guessing that’s a bad thing.”

“A very bad thing,” Castiel nodded.

“Sheesh. If this is you negotiating, let me tell you, pal, you suck at it,” Dean snapped then. “My options don’t sound great. Either I let you order me around like a dog, or I _die_. What choice is there?”

“I would never ask you to behave like a dog,” Castiel said, offended that Dean had even suggested that. Predictably, Dean couldn’t feel the magical bond between them, but still, it stung to know that it meant absolutely nothing to him. Castiel couldn’t help but feel the weight of the bond, pulling his attention towards Dean, making him notice everything there was about the mortal.

If this was how every True Name deal felt, Castiel could understand why director Michael was against them. It was impossible to concentrate on anything else but Dean Winchester’s soul, especially when he was so close.

“Well, what’re you here for, then?”

Castiel sighed. No point in longing for a connection that the mortal didn’t feel.

“Dean, I know you don’t believe me, but since you never wanted this, I will find way to cancel the deal.”

Dean was silent, for a moment, observing Castiel. Castiel calmly stared back.

“How?”

Castiel had no answer to that, but right then, there was the sound of a key turning in a lock. Whatever animosity there had been hanging in the air disappeared.

“Oh no,” Dean muttered.

“What?”

“It’s Sam.” He gave Castiel a panicked look. “I was supposed to pick him up from a friend’s—he shouldn’t have walked, he was just released—”

Castiel understood that by showing up, he’d messed up Dean’s schedule. Before he could apologize, Dean was standing up and trying to usher Castiel to do so as well, and startled, Castiel did. Castiel raised his brows when Dean suddenly placed hands on his shoulders and tried to steer him towards the backyard door. Castiel barely felt the effort behind the push, because mortals were much weaker than supernatural beings, but instead, the hands on his shoulders felt somewhat nice.

“You need to get out before he sees your—”

“Dean, who’re you talking to? Is that someone why you didn’t show up?”

“Yup! Totally his fault!” Dean dropped his hands and turned, nervous flush spreading on his cheeks. He quickly walked to the door to meet Sam, trying to shield Castiel from view. “How was your day, squirt?”

“That stopped being funny when I was twelve, Dean.”

“Old classics never die, Sammy.” Dean shot a desperate look over his shoulder.

At the last moment, before Dean’s brother stepped into the living room, Castiel realized what the problem was, and hid his wings from view. He didn’t like to hide his wings, since it tingled a bit and needed constant effort to keep them hidden, but sometimes it was necessary on the mortal plane.

Sam Winchester looked much better now than the boy lying in a hospital bed that Castiel had met. His soul radiated with color, in contrast to the dark tones Castiel still remembered from the hospital. Castiel had healed him well, and the only visible sign of his trauma was a fully shaved head that Sam was trying to hide under a baseball cap.

“Who’s this?” Sam asked. Behind him, Castiel saw how Dean opened his mouth to answer and then seemed to panic. He couldn’t form a sentence in a moment.

“Uh, well, I—hey, remember how I told you about that doctor who patched you up?”

“That was you?” Sam’s smile brightened and he stepped forward, offering Castiel his hand. Confused, Castiel took it.

“Dean told me you saved my life, Dr. Castiel.”

“Uh.” Castiel floundered for a moment, searching for an appropriate response, until he saw Dean furiously mouth something at him behind Sam. Castiel had no clue what he was trying to say, but the intent was clear. “It was nothing, Sam. And please, call me Castiel.”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled. He dropped Castiel’s hand, but still seemed to be in awe. “I read my medical report. You must’ve performed some miracles back there.”

“I didn’t operate you, Sam. I was more of a…consultant.”

“Well, whatever you did, it helped.” Sam turned to Dean. “Is he staying for dinner?”

“He’s staying for life,” Dean muttered, then caught the odd look Sam threw at him, and stammered, “I mean, of, of course.” He glanced at Castiel. “If you want to.”

“I’d…I’d like that,” Castiel answered. He was certain Dean hadn’t meant the invitation, but he couldn’t resist Sam’s beaming look. And, besides, Castiel hadn’t eaten in a week. Reapers didn’t need that much food, but he’d developed a craving.

“So what sort of specialist are you?” Sam asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, I was broken into so many places that there were at least five different specialists working on me. Head trauma, both legs, intestines…”

“Oh, right,” Castiel said. Dean was mouthing something again, but Castiel hadn’t acquired the skill to read from lips during the last thirty seconds. “I’m, um, brain. I specialize in brain. And heart.”

“Huh, really?” Sam smiled. “Neurology and cardiology? That must’ve taken some time.”

“Not as much as you think,” Castiel said. Behind Sam, Dean raised his eyes towards the sky and sighed.

Dean seemed unsure about Castiel staying for dinner with them, but his ire lessened when he saw Castiel pleasantly speak with Sam. Even if Castiel hadn’t seen Dean at his most desperate, ready to sacrifice himself for his brother, it would’ve been easy to tell how much Dean cared for his brother and how much he admired him. He fussed and prodded until they both sat down at the kitchen table, and didn’t let them help as he prepared the meal, telling them that Sam “shouldn’t overexert himself.” Castiel would’ve told him that Sam was in better health than he’d been before his accident, but he saw the glare Dean threw at him, and kept his mouth shut.

Castiel would have thought that his staying at dinner would be awkward, but he barely noticed the tension. Sam, it turned out, was a very bright young man, and amiable to talk to. He was working on his Master’s degree in political science in Stanford University in California, and was very knowledgeable and interested in various fields despite specializing in that.

“Eat up, Sammy,” Dean interrupted when Sam was telling Castiel about his studies. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks.”

“Yeah, so you keep saying,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. To Castiel, he added, “If he had his way, I wouldn’t leave this table except to sleep.”

“You’ve been asleep for three weeks!” Dean protested, putting more potatoes and chicken on Sam’s plate.

“That’s not how being in a coma works, Dean,” Sam said, but accepted the food nonetheless. “If you don’t believe me, Dr. Castiel can surely explain it to you.”

”Just Castiel is fine,” Castiel said. He didn’t know how to feel about his new role as a doctor – someone who kept Death away instead of inviting it. The thought almost made him laugh.

“I still don’t believe it was full three weeks,” Sam protested. “I thought I’d develop at least some muscle and weight loss in that time.”

Dean shot a glare at Castiel, clearly daring him to say something, so Castiel stepped in. “Um, what are your plans now, Sam?”

_Subtle_ , Castiel could read from Dean’s demeanor, although not from his lips.

“Well, I still have a few courses and a thesis left to write, so I’m going back to Stanford. Don’t think they like my spotty schedule that much, but…”

“Medical reasons, Sam,” Dean said, pointing at him with his fork. “They can’t throw you out because of that. And if they do, they’re a bunch of imbeciles who never deserved your brain.”

“Oh, that reminds me, where’d you study, Castiel?” Sam turned to him, and Castiel’s thoughts froze for a moment. Dean looked worryingly pale.

“Ab-abroad,” Castiel finally coughed. “I’m not from…United States.”

“Oh, wow, I never would’ve guessed that from your accent!” Sam said, excited. “So where did you grow up?”

“Denmark,” Castiel said. He couldn’t remember which states existed in this time and which didn’t. He was certain that his first thought, Frisia, had ceased to exist, but his second choice, Pomerania, was harder to place. Better play it safe and pick something that had definitely lasted for over a thousand years.

“Huh,” Sam said, and opened his mouth – probably to ask Castiel for a life story that he couldn’t provide – but Dean interrupted him.

“Quit interrogating him, Sam,” Dean said. “Castiel has to fly back home tonight. He can tell you all about The Little Mermaid and singing fish some other time.”

“There are no singing fish next to the statue,” Castiel commented, and the brothers looked so strangely at him that he realized he’d made some sort of social blunder. Then Sam laughed.

“You can tell me how historically accurate the Disney version is next time,” Sam said. “I should really go pack as well. I’m flying back to Stanford tomorrow.”

“You never told me that,” Dean said. He sounded surprised and a little betrayed, and if Castiel could have, he would have turned invisible right then. He didn’t want to be present for what could obviously turn into an argument between brothers.

“I’ve been up and about for days now, Dean. I really need to go back.”

“But, but you just arrived! We didn’t even get to have a proper vacation!” Dean protested. “We got two days, and then that drunk driver ran you over!”

“That’s hardly my fault, Dean.”

“Wandering around town at two A.M. like in the good old days probably wasn’t your fault, either,” Dean snapped, and Sam’s expression tightened. There was clearly something about the discussion that Castiel was missing, but he wasn’t about to ask.

“That’s low, even for you, Dean,” Sam said. “I was fully in control, thanks. Not my fault the driver decided to take a shortcut through the crowd.”

“Fine, whatever,” Dean grouched. “But you were just released from the hospital! After being in a coma for _three weeks_!”

“I feel fine, Dean. I’ve cleared every medical test there ever was, and nothing’s wrong. I really need to get back to school. I still have classes that I need to pass.”

Dean looked down at his plate. “I was hoping you’d stay a little longer.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. Besides, Jess is starting to worry. She’s been calling me three times a day.”

“Who’s Jess?” Castiel dared to interrupt, seeing as Dean was still looking down at his plate and frowning like the meal had personally offended him.

“My girlfriend,” Sam beamed. He sounded relieved at the change of subject, and reached into his pocket and took out a small cellular device – Castiel couldn’t remember what this particular variation was called – and poked at it until he could show Castiel a picture of a beautiful blonde woman, smiling widely and standing beside Sam. “We’ve been together for a year now. She’s wonderful.”

“She’s beautiful,” Castiel said, sincerely.

“Isn’t she?” Sam was still smiling, and flipped though the photos on the device. “Here, this might be interesting to you.”

Sam showed him a photo of Jess standing in front of a building in green attire. It looked familiar, like something worn in a hospital, but Castiel couldn’t tell what profession it belonged to.

“She’s uh, training to be a…”

“A nurse!” Sam finished. “She’s graduated, already. Works in Stanford Medical Center. We met at the university, actually.” Sam grinned. “She sat next to me during a class, asked to borrow a pen, and that was it. Couldn’t let her go after that.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “She’s been wonderful to me this whole time. Really patient and supportive. Although I don’t think she gets just how fast I recovered.” He grinned. “Can’t wait to show her in person.”

“You get to show her tomorrow,” Dean said. It was the first thing he’d said in a long while, and it startled both Castiel and Sam.

“Right,” Sam said. He stood up. “I should get to packing. Thanks for the meal, Dean.”

“Anytime,” Dean muttered.

“It was nice to meet you, Dr. Castiel.”

“Castiel, please.”

“And thank you for saving my life,” Sam said, now much more serious. “I don’t know what you did, but that was nothing short of a miracle.”

Castiel didn’t usually get any kind of thanks for his job. He felt something warm light up his chest as he smiled at Sam. “You’re welcome, Sam.”

Dean and Castiel stayed seated at the table while Sam left upstairs to get started on his packing. There was a long silence between them, since Dean didn’t want to talk and Castiel didn’t know how to.

“Sam doesn’t live here,” Castiel stated then. Dean shook his head.

“Moved to California for school,” Dean said. “I stayed.”

“Why?”

Dean blinked at his tone, and Castiel realized that he’d probably been rude. “I mean,” he tried again, “wouldn’t you rather have stayed close to your family?”

Dean’s eyes hardened, and he looked away. “I did,” he said, gruffly. “In good old Lawrence.”

Dean’s posture was tense, and Castiel didn’t think that he would have reacted well if Castiel had prodded any more about his strange answer, so instead, he said nothing.

It had started to rain while they ate. Castiel hadn’t noticed that before, and the rain must’ve started only as a drizzle, because there was no way to ignore the downpour there was out now. He looked out of the kitchen window, counting the thousands rain drops for a while, barely noticing the silence he and Dean had lapsed into.

“Your brother doesn’t know what you did for him, does he?” Castiel asked then. It was a risk, and he knew it hadn’t paid off the second Dean’s eyes hardened.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, and the distorted green shade inside of him curled upon itself. Dean stood up and started to gather dishes. “While Sammy’s packing, you better leave.”

“Oh.” Castiel stood up. “Where would you like me to go?”

“Back to your realm, doofus.”

“I can’t. I’ve been banned until further notice.” It wasn’t strictly true, because there was nothing preventing Castiel from flying between the realms, but he found that he didn’t want to leave Dean just now. Besides, he still didn’t know where to even start looking to cancel the deal. There were no other cases like this in the recorded history of reapers.

Dean slammed the dishes on the counter and turned to glare at Castiel. “Well, you can’t stay here, either!”

“I’ll just wait there, then,” Castiel conceded. He nodded at the window and the outside rain. It wouldn’t bother him to stay in the street or backyard for the night. He’d done it several times while he’d been waiting for a good opportunity to talk to a mortal.

“What, out in the rain?” Dean asked, incredulously. “Are you serious? Why can’t you go back to your realm?”

“My superior told me not to show my face until this situation is resolved,” Castiel said, and at least that was true, even if Castiel knew better than to take Gabriel’s every order seriously. At least in this situation, his order seemed to apply.

“They’re really taking this bonding thing seriously,” Dean mumbled. “Okay, I guess you can... Wait, do you need to sleep?”

“Only occasionally.”

“Right,” Dean sighed. “How often?”

“Once or twice a week, depending on how tired I am.”

“Okay, so are you tired now?”

Castiel thought about it. “Not particularly.”

“Great! So you can go for a long, long walk, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Castiel frowned. “I’d rather stay here with you, Dean. It’s what your True Name wants.”

“What my True Name wants is your ass out of the house, because I can’t explain your presence to Sam,” Dean hissed. It wasn’t a surprise that Dean couldn’t feel the bond between them, but it still stung a little bit. Castiel pushed the thought out of his head. “He thinks you’re his _doctor_. It’s weird enough that you stayed for dinner.”

“I don’t think it’s odd.”

“Huh?”

“Sam clearly thinks we are having an affair,” Castiel said. It was pretty mean to say that, but the way Dean flushed and spluttered for a reply absolutely made it worth it.

“He–he does?”

“I’m joking, Dean. I don’t need to sleep tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”

And with that, Castiel faded from view and flew to right outside of the window. He didn’t want to go back to his own realm, but he could stay invisible on the mortal plane. Dean blinked rapidly as he disappeared from sight and kept staring at the spot where Castiel had been for a while, some strange fascination on his face. Finally, he shook his head and muttered something to himself, before going back to doing the dishes.

Castiel stayed where he was. The rain wet him slowly from head to toe, drops running down his face, but Castiel barely noticed the cold. It felt good, actually; at least he could feel the cold on his face and the discomfort in his wet shoes. He hadn’t felt anything like it in...

Decades. Centuries. Possibly thousands of years.

Castiel raised his eyes towards the dark sky, let the rain fall on his face, and thought how strange it was to feel every atom in this plane and not just pass through them.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel didn’t dare enter the house until early next morning. He’d stayed up all night, watching the rain turn from a downpour into a drizzle, and then he’d taken a short flight around the house’s perimeter, then the town. Lawrence, Kansas, was apparently a town of only 87,000 people, which suited Castiel fine. He had been to the world’s largest cities such as Shanghai and Tokyo, and found that he got overwhelmed from the abundance of people. The way their soul colors clashed and changed, tuning into each other, was hypnotically beautiful, but also headache inducing. The color-clash was easier to withstand in a smaller city like Lawrence.

He watched in silence as Dean prepared breakfast for Sam and himself, and remained in the corner of the kitchen while they ate, trying to stay out of their way as they moved in the small space. Dean appeared quiet and sullen this morning, but Sam was in a good mood, chatting about Stanford and the remainder of his studies, and how Jess was doing in her new job as a nurse. Castiel watched as Dean put another toast on Sam’s plate without being asked, and how Sam barely noticed that, continuing to prattle about his studies.

As they left the house, Castiel saw the tiny black car they stuffed themselves into, and decided that it would be easier to just follow them above ground. Flying to the airport sounded better than damaging his wings in a tiny automobile.

Despite the early morning, there were lots of people in the airport, and it took Castiel a moment to locate Dean’s soul in the mass. The brothers were standing near a long queue of people, and saying goodbye. Castiel took his place near them, but remained hidden from view and tried not to eavesdrop too much.

Although he didn’t move away when he heard them speak, either.

“You could visit me, you know,” Sam said.

“Nah, too much trouble.” Dean shook his head. “Couldn’t get out of work if I wanted to, anyway.”

“You’re just afraid of flying,” Sam said, grinning.

“It’s unnatural! Why would you stuff yourself in a metal tube that flies?”

Castiel waited until Dean and Sam had said goodbye to each other, and watched as they shared one last hug. Dean stood still while Sam waved at him and walked towards the long queue, hoisting his back bag onto his shoulder as he went. Invisible, Castiel stood beside Dean and watched with him as the queue moved along, until Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you following me around?” Dean asked then, and Castiel saw no point in hiding himself anymore. Carefully, he melted into the mortal plane, taking care that no one saw him appear and hiding his wings from view. He also didn’t know what would be a good way to answer, “Yes,” to Dean, so he didn’t.

“Sam’s flight is leaving early,” Castiel commented as they watched the queue. Somewhere in there, Sam was already passing the safety inspections and depositing his baggage. Castiel could understand Dean’s aversion to flying if it was like this – mortals made things much more complicated than they needed to be. If they each had a personal automobile, why not a personal airplane?

“Yeah, well, he needed to get back to his studies as soon as possible,” Dean said. There were bitter shades of teal swimming in the center of his soul, but they disappeared as soon as he realized that Castiel was looking at him.

“Your brother has no idea what you do for him, does he,” Castiel finally dared to say. He’d been thinking about it the whole time Sam had talked so lovingly about Jess, but hadn’t known how to voice that.

“How could he?” Dean scoffed.

“You should tell him. You deserve the credit.”

“Why? He’d never believe me.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t wanna trouble him with this...thing.”

Castiel didn’t want to argue about it, so he let the subject drop. Dean obviously didn’t want to discuss this.

“So,” Dean grouched, “what do we do now?”

Castiel blinked. “I suppose I should go look for a way to cancel the deal.”

“You already said that. How’re you planning to do that?”

Castiel looked away. “I’ve no idea. There’s nothing in our recorded history about removing soul bonds.”

Dean sighed. “So, what, until then, you’re just gonna follow me around?”

Castiel thought for a moment, and then decided to say, “Yes. It’s my duty to keep you safe.”

“And mine’s to wear a French maid uniform and call you ‘sir,’ or what?”

Dean didn’t seem serious, so Castiel dared to smile back. “I won’t ask you to, but if you wanted—”

Dean paled. “Joke, joke! That’s called a joke!”

“So is this,” Castiel said. He couldn’t decipher the look Dean shot at him, but at least the animosity from last night seemed to have faded.

“Right,” Dean then said. “Well, I’m heading back home.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Figured,” Dean said, but he didn’t protest.

Castiel followed Dean through the crowd to a parking lot, but when they reached Dean’s black car, Castiel gave it a suspicious look.

“It’s small,” Castiel noted. Dean rolled his eyes.

“You follow me around, you sit in my car, as well,” Dean said, determined. He unlocked the car and went inside, clearly not concerned whether Castiel would follow him or not. Castiel could have flown back to Dean’s house, but the bond tugged at his chest, as if it was reluctant to let Dean go on his own.

“Not too small for you now, is it?” Dean said triumphantly, when Castiel slid into the front seat. He tried to find a good posture, but with his wings, fitting into the car was a challenge.

“It is for my wings,” Castiel muttered.

“Your—I can’t see ‘em now.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Castiel said. He finally managed to fold his wings so that sitting wasn’t completely agonizing.

“Hm,” Dean only said. He started to drive, and faster than Castiel would have expected, they were already well on their way back. “You been in a car before?”

“Few times,” Castiel said. “But last time it didn’t have a roof. And it traveled much slower.”

“What the...was this back in the 1800’s, or what?”

“1914, actually.”

They traveled in silence for a while, and Castiel curiously looked at the passing cars and people. There weren’t many people on the road, and even those few travelers seemed busy.

“It’s Thursday,” Castiel noticed then.

“Yeah, Thursday morning, 11 o’clock. What of it?”

“You’re not at work,” Castiel said. “Mortals still work in this time, right?”

“Yeah, but—wait, is there a time when we don’t have to work?”

“That’s classified information.”

“You totally just admitted to that,” Dean grinned. The tension between them had considerably lessened, and Castiel felt it was acceptable to smiled back. “Yeah, normally I would’ve been at work, but I’m on leave. I took a few days off to take care of Sammy.”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” Dean seemed embarrassed for some reason, and didn’t meet Castiel’s eyes as he said, “I work in construction.” He stared at the road ahead, gripping the wheel, and even if Castiel hadn’t been able to see the dark green shades suffuse Dean’s soul, it would’ve been easy to tell that Dean was lying about something.

“That sounds admirable,” Castiel said, not wanting to confront Dean about the lie just yet.

“Yeah, well, it’s a living,” Dean muttered. Castiel couldn’t understand why Dean seemed embarrassed about his profession.

“You’d rather do something else?”

“Uh,” Dean said. “Not really. I like what I do.”

“If it’s what you wanted, then I see no problem.”

“It’s what my dad wanted, that’s for sure,” Dean said, quietly. Castiel wasn’t sure had Dean meant for him to hear that, so he didn’t comment on it.

It seemed like Dean had lots of stories he wasn’t keen on sharing. That was consistent with his soul: the colors indicated that he cared for others, but little for himself, with a gentle but armored heart. Something had hurt him deeply in the first years of his life, because when you got over the brightness of his soul, you could see that there was something distorted inside. Something bent. Something that had gone wrong.

Castiel found that intriguing. He’d always enjoyed puzzles, and Dean was a puzzling one indeed.

 

* * *

 

The tension between them seemed almost gone by the time they reached Dean’s house again. Dean seemed to have reluctantly accepted that Castiel couldn’t just snap his fingers and remove the bond, but he didn’t seem too enthused about Castiel staying in house indefinitely, either. Castiel wasn’t too enthused about that, either. Well, outwardly. He’d never spent so long with a mortal before, or in their houses, so it was a surprisingly thrilling experience. Dean probably wouldn’t have appreciated that, so Castiel said nothing.

Since Castiel didn’t know what he should do next, he simply followed Dean to the living room. Dean gave him a glance and then sagged down to the couch, with a sigh. Castiel remained standing.

“Hey, uh,” Dean said. “Look, I think...” Dean said then, trailed off, took a breath and started again, “This is weird and I have no idea how the fuck this usually works, but I guess I still owe you for saving Sammy’s life. So. I’m not letting you play around in my Lego house—”

“Dean, I promise I will never do anything that you don’t wish,” Castiel interjected.

“Great,” Dean said. He looked away. “Glad we have an understanding here. So... I’m still not putting on that French maid uniform, but...what if I do some chores for you, or something like that? D’you think that’d count as, uh, fulfilling the contract or whatever it’s called? Like, I do a few things for you, then you say that’s enough, debt paid, and ta-dah, I’m canceling my subscription to Grim Reaper Daily.”

“I don’t think so,” Castiel said, hesitantly.

“That not enough? You want me to call you ‘master’ while I’m at it?”

Despite Dean’s smile, Castiel could sense some hesitation under the shell of sarcasm.

“Why do you insist on making this sexual?”

“Uh.” Dean clearly hadn’t expected the question, and seemed lost for a moment. “Um. Isn’t…that…you know. Kinda like it.”

“‘Kinda’ like what?”

“You know, the traditional fairy tale way. The protagonist trades their virtue for...whatever freaky fairies get up to.”

“I would’ve thought that modern fairy tales are much more…chaste in that aspect.”

“But the older ones are not.”

“This is not a fairy tale,” Castiel said, decisively. “I won’t turn into a handsome prince at the end.”

Dean stared at him. “Did you just make a joke?”

“No.”

“Okay, now I know you’re joking,” Dean said. “Alright then, how can I pay my debt to you, _sir_?”

It was obviously a sarcastic jab, but the tone still made Castiel swallow. He said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Make me a sandwich,” Castiel said, then added, “Please.”

Dean didn’t seem impressed. “Didn’t you say you don’t need to eat all that much?”

“I’ve developed a craving.”

Dean’s eye twitched, but after a moment of eyeing each other, Dean stood up and walked to the kitchen. Castiel heard noises of things being pulled from the pantry, and the Dean asked,

“What does his highness want on his sandwich?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Castiel said. “You choose.”

Castiel stood in the living room waiting as Dean made the sandwich. He probably should have felt ashamed that he was giving Dean orders –  _suggestions_ – and worse, letting Dean ask for them, but it ignited some sort of pleasing satisfaction inside him, so he chose to ignore it for now. Instead, he looked around the living room. The TV was the newest thing in there; all the other items seemed old. The couch was so run-down that it might collapse any minute, the bookshelves were handmade from oak and beautiful, but bore the signs of use after decades, and the walls were decorated with floral wallpaper. Only the DVDs in the bookshelf hinted that they belonged to Dean – otherwise, the house clearly belonged to someone else.

“Your sandwich, sir,” Dean called from the kitchen. Castiel threw one more, curious look at the bookshelf, and then left it be.

Despite the sarcasm, Dean had clearly taken Castiel’s request seriously. The sandwich that awaited him on the kitchen table was filled with so many things that Castiel wasn’t sure he would be able to fit it in his mouth. Mindful of his wings so that he wouldn’t knock down any of the decorative bunnies on the windowsill, Castiel sat down.

“This looks delicious, Dean.”

“Yeah, wait ‘till you’ve tasted it,” Dean said. Castiel needed no further invitation.

Dean watched him as he ate, probably waiting for his approval, so after a few bites, Castiel said, “This is excellent, Dean. Thank you.”

“...you’re welcome,” Dean said, pausing strangely. He kept looking at the speed at which Castiel ate, and Castiel slowed down. He was probably breaking some sort of mortal social code.

“You may join me, if you like.”

“Thanks for inviting me to eat at my own home,” Dean grumbled, but did as Castiel had suggested. He made himself a sandwich and sat down, across from Castiel. In silence, they ate their sandwiches.

“So you really can’t just go home to do your research or whatever?” Dean asked then.

“I don’t have a home,” Castiel said.

“You don’t have a home?” Dean repeated.

“Reapers in general don’t have a home,” Castiel said.

“Uh, what about your realm?”

“Oh, there’s that, of course. But only directors have individual lodgings.”

Castiel paused his eating when he noticed Dean’s shocked look. Dean didn’t seem to believe him.

“We others stay in settlements,” Castiel continued, trying to make it clearer to Dean. “There are several sleeping quarters. Although, they are cleared daily, and you can’t leave anything there or take anything with you. Not that we own anything. That’s a privilege for the higher-ups.”

“So you all stay in hostels permanently, aren’t allowed to any personal items, and that’s...normal?”

“It’s the norm,” Castiel said. He didn’t mention his little private rebellion in the form of his pocket universe.

Dean was still looking at him with something suspiciously close to pity. Then, he rose from his seat, walked to the counter and asked,

“You want another sandwich?”

Castiel blinked, surprised at this hospitality, but the look on Dean’s face was sincere. He nodded.

The rest of their early meal was filled with hesitant, but flowing conversation. Castiel hadn’t had to try to converse with a mortal like this in a while. In fact, he was positive he had never attempted to keep a conversation going, lest the situation became awkward. ‘Small talk,’ like mortals called it, wasn’t necessary when trying to make a deal. Those conversations were concise, with no room for niceties. This was different.

And a bit exciting.

Dean didn’t tell him much about himself, but he was keen to talk about Sam, and when it became clear that Castiel didn’t know much about 21 st century USA, Dean tried to fill him in on what point of history they were at this stage. That particular conversation ended when Castiel asked, “So is this the timeline where five presidents get murdered in a row, or the alternative?” After that Dean nearly inhaled the rest of his sandwich, and Castiel needed to use a little magic to prevent him from suffocating.

After eating, Castiel wandered to the living room again, still interested in looking through the bookshelves and the items in there. This was the first time he’d been somewhat free to roam a mortal household in a long time, and he felt joy at the freedom of picking up things and just looking at them, with no incentive to hurry it up and disappear.

Unless you counted Dean’s eyes on him as an incentive to stop. He’d come to sit to the couch in the living room with a pile of papers, something work-related, but he hardly looked at them. Instead, he watched Castiel, rolling his eyes at Castiel but still explaining whenever Castiel had questions.

“You don’t know what a DVD is?” Dean asked after Castiel had picked up one of the movies.

“In theory,” Castiel said. “It’s an antiquated system of watching moving pictures.”

“Okay, one, no one calls them ‘moving pictures’ anymore. It’s just movies. And second, _Psycho_ is hardly old!”

Castiel turned the case in his hands. He had a vague recollection of it, even though he was certain that he’d never seen the movie. There weren’t many that he’d seen.

“It’s a movie from 1960, no?”

“Yeah?”

“Considering your age, it is certainly your senior.”

Dean huffed a laughter, surprising them both. Castiel couldn’t stop looking at Dean while he laughed; the emotion rippled through his soul, making the colors dance all around him. It was mesmerizing.

The moment was broken when a assignment scroll burst through the barrier of the realms. Dean nearly jumped out of his seat, his mouth hanging open as he watched the scroll move around in the room. It was clearly from Anna – the scroll was dancing joyously in the air in a way that Naomi never would’ve charmed it to do.

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“You can see that?” Castiel asked, surprised.

“Um. Not if it’s forbidden?” Dean asked, retreating. His eyes flickered towards the scroll, betraying the lie.

“Interesting,” Castiel muttered. It was just a tiny feeling, but it was there – he could feel some sparks of his own magic flowing down the string between them, connecting Castiel’s magic with Dean’s soul. Dean obviously had no magic of his own, but the way Castiel’s magic was reacting to him, there was a possibility that Dean could absorb some from Castiel, when the bond became stronger.

“It seems I’m still getting orders,” Castiel said. He was somewhat surprised – Naomi hadn’t yet told other controllers to not give him tasks. He’d imagined it would be the first thing Naomi would do, cut Castiel off from the realm completely, until he caved in and brought Dean there for soul harvesting. Another surprise was Anna giving him an assignment at all, since Anna usually worked with young, inexperienced reapers.

Well, in a way, Castiel supposed that Dean counted as fresh reaper. Or a complication.

“Could you put that down?” Dean asked. He seemed shocked to see a scroll twirl around the room, bouncing off the walls. Castiel didn’t see the harm in that, since the scroll was carefully avoiding every item, just dancing around them, but Dean looked uncomfortable.

Castiel waved his hand and the scroll came to a halt, unfolding itself right before Castiel. Dean peered from the couch, obviously trying to read the text, but even if he could decipher the alphabet, Castiel was certain he couldn’t read Enochian. Mortals rarely could.

Anna’s assignment was so simple that Castiel suspected she’d sent it to him as a consolation, a way to take his mind off of things. The mark was a girl called Krissy Chambers, 14 years old, in the year 2006. She had twenty years extra on her life, and Anna had even listed an incentive for the deal: following an accident a few years ago, she was limping badly and kept complaining about it, because she couldn’t join her father for his hunting trips anymore. It would be easy to heal her leg.

Castiel snapped his fingers, making the scroll twirl in the air once before it disappeared, satisfied at having been accepted. Dean was still staring at all of this, with curious eyes.

“I need to go.”

“Huh.” Dean eyed him. “What’s that? Your next victim?”

“My next assignment,” Castiel corrected. “It’s not even far from here. I should be back in a moment.”

“What exactly are you gonna do out there?” Dean interrupted before he could leave. “Collect more Names for your harem?”

“Hardly,” Castiel said, dryly. “I’m collecting twenty years from a young girl. Simple enough.”

Dean gave him a strange look and then stood up. “I’m coming with you,” Dean said.

“No.”

“Hey, I’m supposed to help, right?” Dean said. “I’m your...I don’t even know. Servant?”

“I’d rather not call you that,” Castiel said, uncomfortable. “And why would you come with me? Mortals can’t make deals.”

“Curiosity?” Dean shrugged.

They stared at each other for a moment, but since Castiel couldn’t see any reason why Dean shouldn’t come with, he finally nodded.

“Fine,” he relented. “But I’m making you invisible, and you stay out of sight, and don’t talk to anyone. Is that understood?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Dean said. Castiel was about to say that this wasn’t a ship and he wasn’t a captain, but the small glint in Dean’s eye distracted him enough to forget about that.

“Come here,” Castiel coughed. He unfolded his wings, surprising Dean.

“What, we’re doing this now? Don’t you need to do any preparations?”

“Not really,” Castiel said. “I’ve read the assignment. It’s enough.”

Dean said nothing more, and followed Castiel’s gesture to come closer. They were almost touching, but with a clear space still between them, and Castiel nodded approvingly. He raised his hand and placed it on Dean’s shoulder, ignoring the furrowed eyebrows from Dean. Flying two years back in time to the same continent was so easy that Castiel hardly felt the flight at all, and although mortals weren’t used to time travel, Dean didn’t seem to notice that kind of short flight either. He blinked furiously when he realized that they’d already left and arrived, trying to make sense of his new surroundings.

“Where is this?” Dean asked, but Castiel gestured him to be quiet. Dean gave him an angry look, but shut his mouth.

They’d landed in a cabin somewhere in Michigan woods. The cabin was small, merely two rooms, and Krissy Chambers was in the other one. Castiel quickly squeezed Dean’s shoulder, gaining another angry look from Dean, but he stayed quiet, and then turned invisible. Castiel could still see him, but Dean was clearly taken aback with how he couldn’t see his own body anymore.

Castiel left Dean to deal with his new invisible body and confidently stepped into the other room. Krissy Chambers was sitting by a table, writing something down on a notebook, but the second Castiel stepped into the room, her head whipped towards him and her eyes went round.

“What the fuck!” she screamed. Castiel had heard much worse during his career, so he took no notice of that.

“Take it easy, Krissy,” Castiel said. He’d learned some lingo for young people, but Krissy didn’t seem to appreciate that.

“What the actual...you’re not human, are you?” Krissy asked, eyes trained on Castiel’s wings.

“No, I’m not. I’m a grim reaper,” Castiel said. For good measure, he unfolded his wings, because it usually impressed young people in particular.

Krissy stared at him with round eyes, but she was starting to look more curious than disturbed. Castiel prepared to give her the usual speech, already certain that he’d be able to wrap this negotiation up in a minute. Krissy’s soul was blue, shades of ocean green mixed with midnight blue, and there were no tears anywhere. She was cautious, but trusted people if given the right encouragement.

And then, from the other room, came a furious voice, “What’s going on here? Who are you?”

Castiel had rarely had such a shock during his time as a reaper. Confused, he turned around, because he was sure there hadn’t been anyone else in the cabin when they entered. But there it was, an angry man staring right at Dean who was covering in the corner, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Um, hiya, there,” Dean said. The invisibility that had cloaked him was somehow falling off, and with every second the man stared at Dean, the more visible he became. The bond between them hadn’t warned Castiel of this at all – in fact, the bond was quiet, not reacting to the scene at all.

“Jesus fuck! Where did you come from?” Krissy yelled as well, noticing Dean too.

“I’m just along for the ride here. Don’t mind me,” Dean said, but that only made the situation worse.

“What are you playing at here? Get out!” the man yelled. He didn’t seem to notice Castiel’s non-human status, or then he didn’t care. When Castiel took a step towards the doorway, attempting to reason with the man, he suddenly pulled a pistol from his coat.

“One step closer and I’ll shoot you!”

“We’re not here to harm anyone,” Castiel tried, but the man ignored him.

“Krissy, call the police, right now!”

“That is unnecessary,” Castiel tried to say, but the man took the safety off the gun, aiming it at Castiel before suddenly diverting the gun at Dean. Dean, standing next to the man, seemed so shocked that he couldn’t move away.

Castiel had taken a lot of yelling and abuse in his job, but he drew the line at anyone getting hurt. Anger flooded through him, and the bond between him and Dean suddenly ignited, and it felt almost like sparks were coming out of it. Castiel was by Dean’s side before the man had time to react, and he shot a poisonous look at the man and grabbed Dean by the shoulder, flying them back.

They landed with a thump in Dean’s living room, in contrast to the smooth ride they’d had when they left. Castiel couldn’t remember when he’d last been this annoyed, frustrated, or angry, even. This was the first time in centuries when he messed up a job. And lately, all his messes seemed to be related to Dean and Dean’s presence.

“Well, that went well,” Dean muttered. Castiel realized that he was still angrily squeezing Dean’s shoulder and let go with a snarl.

“That was a disaster!” Castiel snapped. “I haven’t messed up a deal in centuries!”

“One mistake isn’t that bad,” Dean said, but Castiel had had enough.

“I told you to stay hidden!” he snapped, making Dean flinch.

“It’s not my fault he saw me!” Dean protested. “Your spell failed!”

“I do _not_ fail at magic!” Castiel said. He clearly remembered the invisibility falling off of Dean, like he was shedding it away, and that had never happened before. A lot of things that had never happened before seemed to be related to Dean, in fact.

“Were you deliberately trying to sabotage me?” Castiel asked. He didn’t realize how loud he’d been before he saw Dean’s shocked expression. Castiel rarely got angry, even at insolent mortals, but Dean was really trying his patience here.

“No! Why would I do that?”

“Because you clearly did not want me to make a deal with her,” Castiel said, and he saw how that hit a mark. Dean’s face closed off, in barely concealed rage.

“What, I should be glad that you couldn’t trick another person?”

“As I have told you time and time again, I’m not a demon!” Castiel bellowed. “I do _not_ trick people! I only take what they don’t need, with their consent!”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me!” Dean hissed. “Take whatever flows over, fine, but I’m not letting anyone suffer the same fate as me!”

The bond tugged at Castiel’s chest so painfully that it felt like physical pain.

“Do you think I regularly go around making True Name deals?” Castiel snapped. “That I ‘collect more Names for my harem’?”

“I don’t know what you do! You never told me the rules and then you changed them anyway!”

“Believe me, Dean, I never intended this to happen!”

“Well, that’s great, because I never wanted this, either.” Dean’s lip trembled. “Might be a good time to come up with a way to remove this bond, now.”

Castiel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did you—did you sabotage the deal just so you could annoy me into removing the bond?”

Dean stared back, eyes slanted with anger. “I  _didn’t_ . But if it gets your ass in gear, great!”

There was a charged silence after that. The anger was draining out of Castiel, replaced with emptiness. The bond between them tugged and twisted painfully, but Castiel cut it from his mind. Dean couldn’t feel it, anyway. It was useless to give it any importance.

“Very well,” Castiel muttered. “Follow me,” he said, and Dean immediately moved towards him. Castiel felt a pang of sadness and anger – he’d given Dean an order, once again, when Dean had very clearly expressed that he didn’t want that. He didn’t want the bond.

With a quick tap to Dean’s shoulder, they were off.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Taking a human to reaper realm wasn’t unheard of, but it was still rare. In some cases, humans who were extremely hard to convince to make a deal, but who were vital because of other threads of fate, were taken to reaper realm for negotiations. Castiel had done that only a few times, and there were centuries between those occurrences, so despite his annoyance, he was curious to see how Dean would react to his home realm.

Flying through the wall of the realms was the easy part – Dean didn’t have time to react to that before Castiel had already taken Dean by the shoulder, leaped into flight and arrived – but taking Dean to the working district was another thing. Wordlessly, Dean followed when Castiel started to walk towards the district. Usually, he would have flown, because walking took too much time, but he didn’t know how he could’ve carried Dean with him. Dean probably would have protested if Castiel had simply picked him up in his arms.

Dean was silent as they walked, but Castiel saw from his face that he was impressed. Several lower-level reapers were walking to and from the buildings, none of them noticing Dean. Cleaners and collectors could only see the souls of dying people, and because Dean’s was shining brightly with life, he held no interest for them. Unfortunately, the effect was different on negotiators: they stopped in their tracks to openly stare at Dean’s soul, even daring to nudge other negotiators and point out Dean. Dean frowned at them, and hurried after Castiel, staying closer than before, which brought some strange satisfaction to Castiel.

“You guys all dress alike,” Dean muttered then, making Castiel startle. “Do you all use the same tailor?”

“Funny,” Castiel said. It was, actually. “Our suits aren’t alike. We dress job-accordingly.”

“Really?” Dean scoffed. “What would you call that?”

He gestured at a reaper walking nearby, a collector named Tessa. Castiel had worked with her before his promotion, and raised his wings in a greeting. Tessa nodded back at him, but didn’t stop. Castiel didn’t mind. Her eyes were glowing in a way that signaled that she’d just received orders from the hive mind, and wouldn’t be able to talk in a while.

“Collectors use a blue suit.”

“Riveting,” Dean said. “So why are you in all black?”

“Because I’m a negotiator.”

“Right,” Dean muttered. Apparently, he still found it hard to believe that there were different ranks of reapers. His refusal to believe what Castiel had told him even after witnessing a deal (albeit a failed one) was bordering on annoying and rude, but modern mortals were usually like this – annoyingly hard-headed, so set in their beliefs that they refused to accept new concepts about their universe even as they were confronted with evidence. Sometimes, Castiel didn’t know if he preferred the challenge modern mortals posed or the cowering fear ancient people showed. At least ancient people believed him from the get-go.

They walked on in silence. Castiel turned the corner towards the wooden bridge separating the district into two sides, since the building they were headed to was on the other side of the district. As they crossed the stream of souls, Dean suddenly stopped and looked over the railing.

“What is that?” Dean asked. He sounded amazed, and Castiel had to stop and turn to look back at him. He never walked around in the working district, and he had forgotten that the stream ran here, too.

“The stream of souls,” Castiel said. He came to stand by Dean, and looked down at the stream. Millions of bright lights, of different colors and sizes, flowed slowly onward in the trench. They kept sliding into each other, through each other, and blended into each other momentarily, before separating once again.

“These…these are souls?” Dean asked. He couldn’t stop staring at the colorful stream, and Castiel had to admit that his enthusiasm looked...nice. Whenever Dean was awed or interested in something, his soul lit up, blinking in different shades of green. It was like he was signaling his interest to the whole wide world.

It was adorable, in a way.

“Do all souls look like that?” Dean asked then. Castiel glanced down at the stream, at the millions of colors below them. He didn’t know how to explain that Dean’s soul was nothing like these.

“Like what?”

“Like…balls of color.”

Castiel snorted. “Balls of color. That’s a description I haven’t heard before.”

“Hey, how else would you call these?”

Castiel started to walk again, and Dean hurried after him.

“So, hey, uh,” Dean said, and Castiel glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “What’s my soul look like?”

Castiel tore his eyes away from the glimmer all around Dean.

“Like a green ball of light.”

Dean scoffed. “Lame.”

Castiel led them to the tall buildings situated a little ways from the bridge. Castiel determinedly walked towards one of them, and Dean followed him. Dean’s eyes kept flickering over the windows of the building, the plain gray color of it, and all the similar buildings surrounding it. The plain architecture was one of the reasons the working district was the least favorite of Castiel’s, but definitely not the only one. He only came here for two reasons: to give reports of his most challenging assignments, or to ask for a correction from a director. Either way, it ended the same: controller Naomi listed all the small mistakes he could have made (but hadn’t), and gave a long-winded speech about being more vigilant in his duties, or director Michael yelled at him for making a mistake, and gave a long-winded speech about being more vigilant in his duties. Castiel barely tolerated either of them, but he still thought that working under Naomi and Michael was preferable to working under the dull Bartholomew and power-hungry Virgil. His favorites were Anna as his controller and Joshua as his director, but they typically gave assignments to new reapers, and Castiel hadn’t been new to the job in couple thousand years. Gabriel barely did any work as director, and his controller Rachel, who had given Castiel the assignment on Dean, only sent him on cases left over from her own reapers, or ones they didn’t want.

It should’ve been obvious to Castiel from the start that an assignment from Rachel never meant anything good.

“This is your office?” Dean asked, shaking Castiel out of his thoughts.

“No.”

“So why are we heading to _Reaping, Inc_.?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Castiel managed a smile. It didn’t say that on the building, but it might as well have. For supernatural beings, reapers were strangely fascinated with human designs and concepts, even if everyone else denied it. “We’re going to meet someone.”

“Someone who can cancel this...thing.”

Castiel didn’t have high hopes. “Hopefully,” he still said.

There was no one at the lobby, to Castiel’s relief. He liked the doorman Uriel well enough, but Uriel had been demoted for a good reason – he’d never done well with mortals. Castiel imagined that he would have tried to prod and poke Dean’s soul just to see if it was real.

Gabriel’s office was in the second floor, and resigned, Castiel walked up the stairs with Dean on his heels. The building was just like any of 1900s office from the mortal plane, so it held no particularly interesting details. Dean still looked around curiously, eyes going from the mahogany of the handrails to the enormous chandeliers full of candles lighting up the space.

They’d barely turned to the hallway where Gabriel’s office was situated when the door to Gabriel’s office flew open, and Gabriel marched out. Castiel and Dean stopped, and Castiel heard Dean gasp loudly when he saw Gabriel’s golden wings that barely fit in the small hallway.

“Cassie! So this is him? Your new pet?”

Castiel sighed. So much for good first impressions. If this kept up, Dean would come to think of all reapers as lying, cheating, lecherous perverts.

Not that some of them weren’t.

“Pet?” Dean repeated behind Castiel. Castiel glared at Gabriel.

“Stop calling him that. His name is Dean.”

“All human names are _so_ hard to tell apart,” Gabriel said with a glint in his eye. His eyes traveled lecherously all over Dean, and although Castiel could tell that Gabriel was doing that only to wind Dean up – he enjoyed that with mortals – Dean couldn’t, and took a step back, frowning. Castiel mimicked the expression.

“Stop making him uncomfortable. And you once had twenty mortal lovers at the same time, with no trouble of telling them apart.”

“ _Twenty?_ ” Dean repeated, in a scandalized voice.

“No need to get jealous, lover-boy. Cas here is much more into monogamy than I am.” Gabriel winked at him, and from the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean’s frown deepen.

“Gabriel,” Castiel said, chastising. Dean’s eyes snapped to the small angel, eyes widening with surprise.

“Gabriel,” Dean repeated. “As in the…archangel?”

“He’s got something besides that pretty face, I see,” Gabriel grinned. He took a little bow. “In the flesh! Most of what people say about me is true. Not that virginal birth thing with Mary, though, I was just joking there.”

“But…” Dean looked back and forth between Castiel and Gabriel. “Your wings are different.”

“Sharp as a tack, I see. I’m a full-blooded angel. Cousin Cas here is just a half-blood,” Gabriel said, flexing his golden wings. The six, huge wings looked more like what humans would traditionally imagine, like a bird’s.

“I did say that reapers are a sub-species of angels,” Castiel remarked, not bothering to hide his victorious smirk. Maybe Dean would finally believe him.

Dean glanced at Gabriel’s wings again, and then eyed Castiel’s dark wings that resembled more bat’s wings than a bird’s, and his smile faded. Of course Dean would think that a traditional set of wings was more appealing than his ugly, more predatory looking wings. Castiel drew his black wings closer to his body, suddenly ashamed of how dull they looked.

Then Castiel realized that it didn’t matter what kind of wings Dean preferred, because mortals, as a rule, weren’t attracted to supernatural beings. Even Gabriel with his twenty lovers had had to hide his true form and pretend to be mortal in order to bed them. And that thought sent him into another spiral of emotions, because why on earth would it matter whether Dean was attracted to supernatural beings or not?

Gabriel, luckily, was unaware of Castiel internal debate. “Right, well, let’s take this party to my office. No offense to your boy toy here, but he’s glowing up like a Christmas tree, and it’s going to upset a few beings around here.”

“Upset them how?” Dean asked. “Wait, back up, I glow like a Christmas tree?” Dean glanced at Castiel. “You said my soul looked like a ball of green light.”

Gabriel burst into laughter. “That’s like saying the Mona Lisa is stick-figure sketched on a napkin. Right, let’s get into my office, c’mon.”

Dean was still glancing at Castiel when they followed Gabriel into the office, but Castiel firmly kept his eyes away from Dean.

Gabriel’s office did not show his personality at all. It was a dull, lifeless office space, with only a few chairs lining the walls, a desk, and a motivational poster on the wall. Castiel suspected that it was ironic. The poster showed a kitten hanging from a tree with a quote underneath: “Playing it safe is the riskiest choice we can make.” Nothing could’ve been further from Gabriel’s personality, but maybe that was why Gabriel kept the poster up.

Gabriel waved his hand, and two of the chairs by the wall rose up and walked to the desk, ready for Castiel and Dean to sit. Dean gaped at the chairs that walked by themselves, but quickly schooled his expression. It wasn’t quick enough for Gabriel, though, because he grinned at Dean and said, “Aww, aren’t you adorable. If you think that’s impressive, you should see what I can do with two hands.”

“Castiel already showed me, thanks,” Dean quipped. “A literal walking chair ain’t got nothing on bringing Sam back from coma.”

“Cas, I think he likes you!” Gabriel said. “Why would you wanna return him?”

“Gabriel,” Castiel said. He was running out of patience, but unfortunately, his glares did little to stop Gabriel.

“If you don’t want him, I’ll keep him.”

“Gabriel!”

“Fine, fine. Spoilsport.”

Dean had been eyeing them both suspiciously, but finally said, “Not to interrupt your lover’s spat, but, is there a way to...unbond us, or whatever it’s called?”

“But Dean! Why would you wanna return him?” Gabriel asked, pointing at Castiel with the tip of his wing. Castiel shot him a glare – he didn’t need to hear Dean’s answer.

Dean didn’t answer, thankfully, and for once, Gabriel did as requested. His eyes started to glow gold, and Dean instinctively leaned away from him.

“Now, stay still, Ken doll. I’m gonna take a closer look at those fireworks in your chest.”

Seeing Dean’s suspicious look, Castiel nodded. “Relax. It’s not going to hurt.”

“Heard that one too many times,” Dean murmured, but stayed still in his seat. Gabriel was silent as he observed Dean’s soul, golden eyes fixed somewhere around Dean’s heart. Castiel felt uncomfortable, like at any moment Gabriel would call out some mistake he had made. He probably had – there was no other explanation as to why Dean’s soul would bond itself to Castiel’s magic so tightly, and why his magic had been fluctuating so badly lately.

“Huh, you’re packing some real heat there. Extra lives like a cat. And—huh, that’s a nice number you got there,” Gabriel commented.

“What number?” Dean asked. “You mean the days I have left?”

“Nah, you’re bonded to a reaper, so that’s irrelevant. He won’t let you die.”

“What?”

“I meant your serial number. Neat.”

“Hold up, am I immortal now?”

“Basically,” Gabriel said. His eyes stopped glowing, and he leaned back in his chair. Dean and Castiel waited in silence as Gabriel conjured up a lollipop and started to suck on it.

“Basically? What the fuck does that mean? Why do I need a sledgehammer to get any answers out of you guys?”

“Very violent imagery, there,” Gabriel said. “But okay. Point is, because of the soul bond between you and Cassie, you’re not going to die unless someone separates your head from your shoulders. Just like any reaper!” Dean glanced at Castiel, considering this new information, and then looked back at Gabriel. “And you’re perfectly healthy – though if you keep drinking like that, it’s gonna rupture your liver – so just like we’ve planned, you’ll live until you’re eighty-one and hard of hearing. So far, there’s not a single thing wrong in your soul, or your mind, or your body.”

“Which means…” Dean probed.

“Which means that you’re stuck with this guy until someone hacks your head off, or you die of cancer, whichever comes first,” Gabriel said gleefully, pointing at Castiel with his lollipop. Castiel felt his stomach drop.

“You can’t—you really can’t cancel it?”

“No can do, buckaroo,” Gabriel said. “The contract is binding. Dean here was fully of mind and body, and so were you.”

“That’s…Gabriel, you know that’s not true!”

Gabriel shrugged, helplessly. “Good luck trying to separate your magic from his soul. That’s a tangle of thread I’m not gonna start pulling apart. That’d destroy both of you.”

There was a short silence. Then, Dean grumbled, “So, what does it mean? Being bonded?”

“It means you’re going up to the wall of fame. _Mazel tov_ ,” Gabriel said. He conjured up a few pieces of confetti for good measure, gleefully laughing at Dean’s expression. “Like it or not, you’re the first True Name deal in centuries! You should be proud.”

“The...what?” Any anger left in Dean seemed to disappear now. “First in centuries?”

“Yup,” Gabriel said. “So even if we wanted to separate you two – which would be soul-crushingly painful, literally – no one remembers how.” He shrugged. “I guess there are some obscure texts down in the archives. Maybe. No one’s ever really done it.” Gabriel turned to Cas with a grin on his face. “Don’t look so grumpy, Cas. You’ve always wanted to spend more time on Earth, right?”

“Not like this, I don’t,” Castiel muttered.

“Take it as a vacation! Or a honeymoon!” Gabriel twirled his lollipop victoriously. “I love problem-solving. Cas here can observe mortals a little more, and Dean can get used to being the bottom bitch.”

“Do _not_ call him that,” Castiel snapped. Dean startled, and though Castiel hadn’t expected him to, even Gabriel looked a little taken aback. He stopped twirling his lollipop, mouth opening a little as Castiel glared at him.

“Right,” Gabriel said. “Sorry. Your charge, then.”

Castiel glowered a moment longer, and then lowered his wings. It brought some satisfaction when he noticed that Gabriel’s wings relaxed when his did, as if he’d really been afraid of confrontation.

“Fine,” Castiel sighed. “So it’s back to work with a helper.”

“Oh, no, no. I saw you mess up that deal just now. You two stay put for now. This situation merits some consideration.” Gabriel looked at him expectantly, but Castiel had no idea what that look meant. Probably something lewd relating to Dean, so Castiel stood up and motioned Dean to follow him. Before he could stop it, Dean had already pushed back his chair and was standing up, following Castiel’s request.

“Don’t look so down, bro,” Gabriel said right before they left the office. “You can finally observe mortals as closely as you’d like!”

“Goodbye, Gabriel,” Castiel said, already directing Dean out of the office before him. Dean waved a goodbye to Gabriel, but didn’t resist it when Castiel pushed Dean forward with his wing. Castiel flushed when he realized what he was doing and immediately dropped his wing, but judging by the snicker he heard from the office, the gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Castiel really needed to get that under control.

They walked down the hallway, not a word exchanged between them. Castiel didn’t know how to approach the situation and he guessed that Dean didn’t want to.

Castiel was deep in thought but not enough to not sense the familiar, annoyed tug around him, and just in time, he looked up to see Naomi walking towards them. Castiel stopped, lifting his hand a bit to make Dean stop as well, and although Dean threw him a glance, he did as Castiel had asked.

“Castiel,” Naomi said, stopping in front of them. She didn’t look pleased to see him, but then again, she never was. “And this is your mortal, I presume,” Naomi said. There was venom in her voice as she looked Dean, up and down his soul, like he was a cockroach ready to be ripped apart, limb by limb. Castiel had already raised and placed his left wing protectively around Dean, before he had even consciously decided to do so.

“This is Dean, yes,” Castiel said.

Naomi said nothing. She was still looking at Dean like she couldn’t stand the sight of him, and Castiel didn’t dare to let go of Dean, even if he could feel how uncomfortable and tense Dean was, drawn against his side.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to see you here until your mistake was rectified,” Naomi settled on saying.

“You said so, yes.” Castiel couldn’t help but annoy Naomi a little, and suppressed a grin when he saw Naomi’s eye twitch at that.

“Have you come to cancel the deal?”

“No.”

Dean glanced at him, concerned. Castiel didn’t have time to placate him.

“I will not terminate the bond. It would only cause him harm, and I’m not willing to do that.”

Naomi eyed them both now with coldness in her eyes. “Your suspension continues, then. You will be called here when I’ve received the proper protocols for canceling True Name deals. If you’re not willing, I’m going to do it myself.”

Castiel nodded his head a bit, and Naomi nodded back. Dean looked mostly confused, but said nothing as Naomi passed them and continued to walk down the hallway, white wings swinging with wide movements as she walked. She must’ve been very annoyed, Castiel thought.

“Sheesh, what crawled up her ass and died?” Dean scoffed.

“Me,” Castiel said, and that startled a laughter out of Dean. The laugh made Castiel strangely pleased.

The walk out of the office building was spent in silence. They walked slowly side by side, the pace slowing to a crawl when they reached the stream of souls. Dean kept glancing at the stream, so [Castiel directed them to stand by the rail and let Dean look at the stream for his heart’s content](https://imgur.com/zfq4rYl). Castiel stared at the blue sky instead; he’d looked at enough souls during his existence. Nothing really impressed him anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Dean said then. Castiel blinked, not having expected that. “I...guess I didn’t realize just how...strange this—bond—is.” He frowned. “Apparently very strange for some reapers as well. And forbidden?”

“Not forbidden, exactly,” Castiel said. But he had seen the venom in Naomi’s eyes as plainly as Dean. “But above my pay grade, in her opinion.”

“Huh.” Dean looked away, then raised his eyes to Castiel again. “So I’m the first one in centuries? Guess I’m special at something, at least.”

“In four-hundred and fifty-two years, actually,” Castiel corrected. He glanced away. “And I’m sorry for accusing you of sabotaging me. I’m not used to company in my work.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell at all.”

Castiel cracked a small smile, which Dean answered.

“So, we deal with this thing?” Dean asked.

“We deal with this thing,” Castiel nodded.

“Still no plan?” Dean asked, giving a little smile.

“We’ll make it up as we go,” Castiel shrugged. “For now, I suppose I’m grounded with you.”

“Why did Gabriel tell you to stay put?” Dean asked then. He was leaning against the railing, looking down at the stream, his face illuminated by the light of the souls. Castiel turned away so that he wouldn’t stare too much.

“Because they’re thinking of reassigning me,” Castiel said. He felt hollow at that. “Possibly because they think I can’t do my job anymore, now that you’re helping me.”

Castiel didn’t dare to think what would happen next. When director Michael found out, he’d probably go over Gabriel’s head and try to detain Dean like Naomi wanted, while demoting Castiel for refusing orders. Which Gabriel would obviously protest, trying to go over Michael’s head, which would only lead to a bureaucratic stand-still, with Castiel still tied to a mortal.

Castiel really hated the inter-office politics, sometimes.

“So…what, you get a nice little desk job?”

“In the best case scenario,” Castiel snorted.

“And the worst?”

“Going back to cleaning.” Castiel nearly shuddered. “Hopefully not. I’ve worked my way up from there. I’m not going back.”

“What else is there?”

Castiel blinked at Dean’s eager look; it suddenly seemed like was truly interested in whatever Castiel had to say. Sensing Castiel’s surprise, Dean coughed.

“I mean, looks like I’m in this for the long run, so...”

Castiel felt his heart soften a little. It was an odd feeling, one he didn’t want to inspect closer just now.

“Of course,” he said, hiding a smile. “I started in cleaning, as everyone does. But I became sentient so soon that I was promoted to collecting and from there, straight to crafting.”

“Became sentient?” Dean blinked. “You mean you weren’t before?”

“Cleaners and collectors have a hive mind,” Castiel explained. “Some never learn to make decisions for themselves. Those who gain consciousness of their own are promoted to other positions.”

“Sheesh,” Dean muttered. “Sound awful.”

“It’s not...fun,” Castiel admitted. But you didn’t need consciousness when cleaning out souls after disasters, or escorting souls back to the realm after their natural death. Cleaning, especially, was a job no one wanted – well, unless your name was Lucifer, and you actually enjoyed going through battlefields and ripping out souls that barely clung to dying people.

“It’s still weird that you guys have specialized positions for ripping out souls.”

“We don’t rip out souls, we—”

“Recycle them, yeah, yeah. So, is soul crafting what I think it is?”

Dean was looking at him with interest, so Castiel continued the discussion. He leaned back, letting his wings droop to rest against the railing.

“Probably, though not how you imagine it.”

“So you’re not literally building Lego houses,” Dean said.

“It’s a little more complicated than playing with Lego.”

“I figured.”

“There are certain guidelines,” Castiel said, “And a certain amount of improvisation allowed.”

“So it’s...art.” Dean looked awed; the expression made him look younger than he was, eyes shining with wonder. “What’s that like? How do you decide what pieces to choose?”

Castiel couldn’t help a small smile at Dean’s amazement. “A good crafter knows instinctively what pieces to use. What fits together, what pieces compliment each other.” He glanced at the stream, looking at how harmoniously the souls floated together. “And which souls compliment each other.”

Dean was quiet for a moment. “Why’d you stop working at crafting? Sounds like you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” Castiel nodded. He was still looking away from Dean, trying to convince himself that the stream of souls was more interesting. “It wasn’t my decision. I was reassigned.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said, quietly. He didn’t like to talk about that – he had enjoyed soul crafting, a lot, and still didn’t know what he’d done wrong to be suddenly reassigned, three centuries ago. He had no clear memories of that time; it was a white patch in the middle of his mind, but perhaps it was for the best. He’d clearly done something reprehensible, if he couldn’t remember it. And he hadn’t been the only one reassigned, at least. Naomi had been promoted to controller at the same time, and Rachel had moved from crafting to be a controller as well. Several people had shifted around at that time. But Castiel...he’d been demoted to negotiations.

“I wasn’t given any reason,” Castiel finally grouched.

“Not a great way to run a business, there,” Dean remarked. “Produces a lot of unhappy workers.”

Castiel said nothing. He had no explanation to his reassignment.

“We should get back,” Castiel said then, pushing off the railing with his wings.

“Right,” Dean muttered. He started to walk again, but Castiel stopped him by placing a hand over his shoulder. Dean halted and opened his mouth to ask something, but before he could, Castiel had already flown them back to Earth, right to where they’d left.

Dean’s living room was exactly the same, and yet, it now seemed even older and sadder than before. At least Castiel hadn’t been disoriented this time – they’d arrived to the right slot of time, because only an hour had passed since they left.

Dean stumbled backwards, shaking his head, and blinked a few times. Flying through the wall separating their realms was supposed to be easy, but since Dean’s soul was still alive, maybe it had a more pronounced reaction to the trip.

“Well, that was awful,” Dean muttered. He frowned, lifting a hand to rub his temples. Castiel felt a twinge of sympathy at his headache.

He lifted a hand towards Dean’s forehead, and Dean flinched backwards.

“What’re you—”

“Stay still,” Castiel murmured. He placed two fingers on Dean’s forehead, and let a single thread of blue healing magic slip from them to Dean’s head. He watched as the thread opened up and flattened itself, covering all of Dean’s head, and absorbed the angry red welts of pain into itself.

Dean was staring at him when he lowered his hand, and Castiel looked away. There was intensity to Dean’s look that he wasn’t ready to decipher.

“Thanks,” Dean said. “That’s, uh, that’s a neat trick.”

“Street magicians have ‘tricks.’ That was magical healing.”

“Potato, po-tah-to,” Dean said. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Castiel couldn’t draw his eyes away.

Dean’s eyes were glowing green, like his soul. Like an endless forest Castiel could spend the rest of his way wandering in.

“So, now what?” Castiel asked, if only to distract himself.

“Now, I’m going to make dinner,” Dean said. He raised his brows, already walking towards the kitchen. “You ever cook a meal?”

“No,” Castiel said. Something stirred inside of him, and he thought he could imagine the feeling of stirring a pot, of cutting vegetables, but he dismissed it. He’d never done that.

“Wanna learn?” Dean said, and the airy way he said it convinced Castiel that this was Dean’s way of saying they were okay for now. Despite the situation they had, Dean was adapting to it, and offering Castiel the chance for the same.

“Of course,” Castiel said, and followed Dean.

 

* * *

 

Castiel was pleased to find out that cooking wasn’t as hard as he’d feared it would be. Though in part that might have been because Dean asked him to cut the vegetables for a soup, while Dean did everything else. Dean shook his head in amusement when Castiel mentioned about wanting to read up on more cooking, but didn’t stop him, either.

After dinner, Dean started to work on those papers he’d earlier brought to the living room, and Castiel gave him space for that. He stood in front of the window for a long while, amusing himself with the faint soul colors coming people passing by and the nature. Dean gave him a look like he was being strange, but Castiel didn’t particularly care. He’d rarely had the opportunity to simply be and stay still, enjoy his surroundings. As a reaper, he lived from job to job, with little time in between. Whatever free time he had was spent talking to his friends, or perhaps secretly checking in on his past charges. It wasn’t encouraged, so Castiel rarely dared to do it. He usually just detoured after a job, if he was close enough to his past dealings.

Castiel barely noticed the passing of time, apart from Dean moving around, once to make a phone call to someone – Sam, from the few words Castiel heard – and getting up for food. He turned on the TV at some point, which drew enough Castiel’s interest that he turned around to watch, but mostly, they passed the evening in silence, broken with occasional bouts of conversation. Again, Dean didn’t talk much about himself, but he seemed to light up whenever Castiel asked about the movie collection he had and what were his favorites. After some prompting, Dean even promised to show Castiel a movie at some point, something Castiel hadn’t often had a change of doing. He’d seen movies, of course, but had never sat down in a mortal’s home to watch them. Or, at least he didn’t remember doing that. He wasn’t sure.

At some point of the night, Dean started to retreat towards the stairs, prompting Castiel to ask, “Where are you going?”

“To sleep.”

Castiel glanced at the clock on the wall. “I was under the impression that adult mortals rarely go to bed at nine.”

“It’s been a long day. You know, with what getting chained to a supernatural being and going to a different universe,” Dean protested. “I might need a little more time to recharge after that.”

Castiel told himself to stop being disappointed. Dean wasn’t rebuffing him – mortals needed sleep. It wasn’t Dean’s fault Castiel wasn’t tired in the least and wouldn’t be for the next five days.

“I could heal you,” he still offered.

“Fuck no. I like my sleep, and I’m going bed,” Dean said. He glanced at Castiel. “And you’re not welcome.”

“I didn’t think I would be,” Castiel said, heart starting to hammer uncomfortably in his chest. Dean snorted.

“You didn’t need to sleep, right?”

“Not tonight,” Castiel said, after a short consideration.

“Good. I’m too beat to make up a bed for you. So you can take the couch and...I dunno, read, watch whatever trash there’s on TV at midnight. Just keep the volume low.”

Castiel nodded, even if he didn’t quite understand the instructions, and then watched as Dean disappeared up the stairs.

Castiel didn’t have anything else to do, so he did as Dean had suggested and took the couch. Lying there, looking at the ceiling and counting the blotches on it, Castiel felt far away from his realm, and alone. But strangely, he wasn’t lonely; although it was dim, the pull of the bond was still there, tugging his thoughts towards Dean.

Castiel had always thought of True Name deals as one-sided, where the reaper directed the mortal to do whatever they wanted and the mortal submitting to that, but he couldn’t imagine giving Dean a task and simply ignoring him otherwise. The magical thread between them was too strong for that: it pulsed and pulled, drawing Castiel’s interest towards Dean even when he thought he could’ve ignored it. It was like an itch he couldn’t help but scratch, a figure in the corner of his eye that he couldn’t help but glance at. The thread between the _demanded_ to be seen.

If this was what making True Name deals truly was like, it was no wonder they were so rare. Castiel couldn’t imagine that any of his friends would’ve been ready to bear the weight of the soul bond, its constant call for attention.

Strangely, Castiel found that he liked it. He liked the attention Dean’s soul demanded, and he liked that pull between them. Dean himself didn’t realize that, probably wouldn’t even like it, but Castiel would be content with what he had.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I can't seem to get the image to work, so it's linked in the text and here: [River](https://imgur.com/zfq4rYl) or in the [masterpost](http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/post/180038579555/dont-fear-the-reaper-ii-dcbb-2018-ii-art).


	5. Chapter 5

Despite not being tired, Castiel must’ve dozed off at some point of the night, because when he came to, the sun was shining brilliantly in the outside, and there were noises coming from the kitchen. A bitter smell was permeating the air, finally pulling Castiel from his meditative state. He was still blinking and trying to make sense of his surroundings when Dean appeared in the doorway. This time, Dean was wearing only a gray bathrobe and white slippers, looking much more relaxed than he’d been yesterday.

“My life is officially weird,” Dean said, “There’s a reaper sleeping on my couch, and I’m not even alarmed.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Castiel protested.

“You haven’t moved from that spot since I last saw you, and you’ve got some drool on your chin,” Dean said. “Get your act together, man.”

Castiel kind of liked Dean like this. Dean was definitely more comfortable in his own home, felt more at ease. At the reaper realm, he’d been all wide-eyed and innocent, but this felt more like him. Even if he was constantly sarcastic and downright rude at times.

“What is that?” Castiel asked, sitting up. The bitter smell was clearer now, and when Castiel followed it to the cup in Dean’s hands, Dean glanced down at it and frowned.

“Coffee,” he said. “What, you’ve never had coffee? Sheesh, do they let you guys do anything other than work at _Reaper Inc_.?”

“We get a common room,” Castiel muttered, but it wasn’t much of a rebuttal, because there was nothing to do in a common room. Except talk with friends.

Dean considered this for a moment. “And you’re okay with that?”

Castiel’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t face Dean. He wasn’t okay with that – he  _did_ want more, he didn’t want to hide his little universe from the wrath of his superiors, and he didn’t want to spend all his days thinking of loopholes in the rules so he could give his charges what they needed, even if they didn’t ask for it. But it was forbidden to think that, so Castiel banished the thought before it went further.

Castiel had always known he was different from his peers, but he never wanted to confront the fact. Knowing that he was different and being marked as different were two very different things.

“Can I try that?” Castiel asked instead, gesturing at Dean’s coffee cup. Dean was still looking at him, seemingly distracted.

“What? Oh, um, sure, go ahead and get yourself a cup. There’s a bunch over the sink,” Dean babbled on, suddenly not being able to look at Castiel in the eye. Castiel thought that was weird, but didn’t comment on it as he rose from the couch to get his first-ever cup of coffee.

“Just, uh, nice bed-head there,” Dean commented to Castiel’s back. “And...whatever the equivalent of wings is called. Didn’t know your wings could do that.”

Castiel felt his face heat up, and with a flash, he hid his wings from view. He’d never realized his way of twisting his wings while he slept looked odd. No one had ever commented on it before, but maybe they were just being nice.

Dean gave him a strange look when he came back to the kitchen to find Castiel leaning against the sink, nursing a cup of coffee, and still keeping his wings invisible. Castiel didn’t know if he’d done something wrong, so he said nothing.

“Uh, you don’t need to eat, right?” Dean asked.

“I can eat,” Castiel said. He thought he had proven Dean that he could, just yesterday.

“No, I mean—we’re running low on food. So if you could not eat for a day or two, that’d be great.”

“You should go to the store, then,” Castiel said, unsure what it meant when Dean scoffed at his perfectly reasonable suggestion.

“Right,” Dean said. “Well, until I get my next paycheck, no food for you. Barely any for me, too.”

That reminded Castiel – it was now Friday, which mortals considered to be a normal workday. Yet it was past nine in the morning, and Dean was at home, wearing a bathrobe and preparing himself a sandwich.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working today?” Castiel asked. The dark blotches spread throughout Dean’s soul again, but then disappeared.

“Um, no. They, uh, told me to take an extended leave.”

“Extended leave?”

Dean sighed, and the final dark blotches left. It looked like Dean was done with skirting around the truth. “They kind of kicked me out when I took three weeks off.”

Castiel stared at him. “They kicked you out because you were so worried about your brother?”

“I tried, okay! I used up all my sick days and holidays, and I did all the hours they asked but...” Dean looked away. “Guess they got sick of looking at my moping mug.”

They stood in the silence for a while, Castiel still clutching his cup of coffee and Dean half-heartedly poking at his sandwich. Finally, Castiel remarked,

“It seems we’ve both been laid off, then.”

Dean couldn’t help but snort at that. “Welcome to the real world, 101.”

“I’m not sure what to do with that,” Castiel said.

“Hey, at least you have an education,” Dean said, levity finally returning to his voice. “You could just waltz into any funeral home and they’d be _dying_ to have you.”

“Very funny,” Castiel said, which only made Dean grin wider. “Do you not have education, then? Do you need that for a job?”

“Uh,” Dean said, taken aback. “This is a conversation I need more coffee for.”

Castiel let the subject lie, and they got seated in the kitchen table. Castiel liked the bitter taste of coffee so much that he took a second cup, and drank it peacefully as he waited for Dean to finish his sandwich. There was silence for a while, until Castiel dared to break it. He’d been observing the kitten statues on the windowsill, certain that those were something Dean never would have picked out for his home, and finally dared to say,

“That is an interesting choice of decor.”

Dean huffed. “Not mine, believe me.”

“Sam is into plastic kittens?” Castiel asked, drawing out a laugh from Dean.

“Nah,” Dean said. He raised his eyes momentarily to Castiel’s. “This is my grandparents’ home,” Dean admitted then. He didn’t need to say any more; the items in the house told their own story. Everything in the house was old, used, and clearly not picked by Dean. Almost nothing in the house fit his personality or tastes.

“You inherited this?”

“Yeah. I took care of ‘em until they died,” Dean said, quietly. “So they left me this place. And not much else, really. But it was a lifesaver. Didn’t have any other place to go at that time.”

They continued their breakfast in silence, until Castiel decided to break it.

“You never answered my question,” Castiel said then. “Do you not have an education?”

Dean glanced away, but then finally answered. “Not really. Just a GED.”

“What’s that?”

“I uh, finished high school. But I never went to college.”

Castiel considered this. “Did you want to?”

“I—maybe,” Dean hedged. “But whatever. Never got a chance to. Or never had the money to. You know...considering what happened to Sam.”

“What happened to Sam?”

Dean was silent for a long while. Castiel was beginning to think that he wouldn’t get a response, until Dean said, “He overdosed a few years back.”

“On…”

“On some drug I can’t pronounce. Doesn’t matter.” Dean took a breath. “I put him in rehab, made sure he stayed there, and just when he was in the clear and back to complete his studies, a drunk driver ran him over.” Dean let out a humorless laugh. “Just over a year clean, and then this happens. On his first vacation back home.”

Dean wasn’t meeting his eyes, and the bond between them twisted painfully. Clearly, this was a touchy subject for Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said.

“It’s fine,” Dean muttered.

“And...your parents...” Castiel didn’t need to say any more. He’d already read from Dean’s background that his parents were both dead – in fact, Dean and Sam had no other relatives left but each other – but addressing it seemed appropriate.

“Dead,” Dean said. He swallowed, then hid half of his face behind his coffee cup. “Ages ago. I’ve been taking care of Sam since I was fifteen.”

“That seems hardly fair,” Castiel said.

Dean shrugged. “It’s life. It’s what it is.”

Dean’s dismissal sounded absurd. He’d clearly sacrificed everything in order to take care of Sam – forgone college in order to work, put his brother in rehab, even traded his life for him.

“He really has no idea what you’ve done for him, does he?” Castiel asked, repeating what he’d asked Dean yesterday. But just like yesterday, this seemed to a subject Dean wasn’t willing to discuss.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said, curling in on himself.

“Of course it does. He deserves to know, and you deserve the credit.”

“He’s family.”

Castiel blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Family is supposed to be ungrateful.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good family, then,” Castiel slowly said. He didn’t want to offend Dean, but he couldn’t comprehend how Dean got through his days if he truly thought so little of himself. He had sacrificed his own life for Sam, who neither knew that nor seemed to comprehend how much Dean still did for him. He’d nursed Sam back to health, and all he asked in return was to spend some time with his brother. “Annoying, perhaps. Hurtful, at times, maybe. But never ungrateful.”

“How would you know anything about that?” Dean sneered. Castiel’s chest constricted at that, like someone had painfully grasped at his insides. Unknowingly or not, Dean had hit on a painful truth. Castiel had no one. He had friends, true, but reapers didn’t generally develop familiar bonds. There was no one who would’ve done for Castiel what Dean had done for his brother.

“I guess I don’t,” Castiel muttered.

“Besides, I’m sure he’d done the same for me,” Dean said. Castiel wasn’t as certain, but he didn’t want to upset Dean further by saying that. Sam, if hadn’t been cured, would have lived only for a month. He had no extra years to his life. He didn’t even have a full natural lifetime. Sam Winchester had been lost from the start.

He was only alive because Dean had deemed it important enough.

There was a growing, tense silence between them throughout the rest of the meal, and when Dean was finished with his sandwich, he abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to shower, and then for a walk,” Dean said, and glared when Castiel tried to get up. “You’re not coming with me. _Especially_ to the shower. Go for a flight around the earth or something, just don’t follow me.”

The bond between them protested at the thought, but Castiel pushed it down. Lamely, he said, “I’m supposed to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, I’m supposed to cater to your every whim, but we can’t always get what we want, can we,” Dean snapped.

Dean was obviously upset about their conversation, and since Castiel didn’t know how he could broach the subject again, he decided to let Dean go. The bond between them was so fresh that it hardly felt like anything when they were in the same room – it was just a string, tying them together – but Castiel would feel it if Dean was in trouble. The incessant pull was stronger the farther away Dean was; Castiel could momentarily forget it was there, but every time he let his mind wander, the string would pull his thoughts to Dean.

Taking Dean’s suggestion, Castiel finished his third cup of coffee and left for a flight around the world. At least he had time to check up on his former charges, now.

 

* * *

 

After a flight into 1779’s Japan and a visit to 1674’s Mongolia – it was in the neighborhood, after all – Castiel was feeling a bit better. The girl he’d healed in Japan had grown up to be a beautiful woman, and was married with children now. She had introduced her children to Castiel by saying that Castiel was the healer who fixed her mangled legs, which had put a smile on Castiel’s face and had made one of her children ask if he could heal his eyesight. It was such a small deal that Castiel didn’t ask for confirmation from upstairs, and he left with one shining year in a bottle for Kevin Tran and a happy five-year-old who could finally see the world clearly. Mortals were so frail, sometimes, that Castiel wondered what cruel creature had created them. They obviously wouldn’t have survived without reapers balancing their world, although they were doing much better in the modern times.

Castiel thought that he’d given Dean enough time for a shower and a walk, as he’d been away for the whole day, but when he returned to the living room, Dean was lounging on the couch with the TV on. He didn’t look like he’d showered at all – in fact, he looked messier than when Castiel had left him. At least Dean had put on sweatpants and a t-shirt, even if it was dirty.

Dean nearly fell off the couch when Castiel landed, and put the TV on mute immediately. He turned to face Castiel.

“Where’ve you been?” Dean asked. He sounded angry, but the teal tones swimming in his soul told Castiel that he was concerned. Castiel frowned at the juxtaposition.

“Flying,” he said. He wanted to comment on Dean’s soul colors or the way the bond tingled between them – but he didn’t think Dean would appreciate it.

“It’s been two days,” Dean said. “Helluva flight.”

“Well, I did go around the world, like you suggested,” Castiel said. He frowned. “I didn’t realize it took so long.”

“You’ve no concept of time,” Dean huffed. He swiped some crumbs off of his shirt, in a feeble attempt to clean himself. Castiel noted that there were dark blotches in the center of Dean’s soul – he was ashamed of something. Maybe his appearance. Castiel thought that Dean still looked very nice, even if he did seem tired and messy, but it was a bit concerning that in the two days that Castiel was gone, Dean didn’t look like he’d left the house at all.

“What have you been doing while I was gone?”

“Um,” Dean said, looking around the living room, which was filled with papers and boxes of food. “Looking for work?”

“On TV?” Castiel asked, nodding at the screen.

“No need to get snippy. I’m thinking of places. And I’m working on my resume,” Dean said, showing the piles of paper spread around the coffee table.

“I thought mortals used electronic paper in this time.”

“You mean like, emailing my resume?” Dean asked. “Uh, sure. I do that too. But I like working with paper.”

“Hm,” Castiel said. Dean avoided his gaze, and something tinkled down the bond between them. Dean didn’t seem to realize that, and Castiel didn’t know how to name the feeling, but he guessed that he shouldn’t leave Dean alone for a while.

“Have you eaten yet?” Castiel tried.

Dean gestured at the boxes on the table – pizza, judging by the grease stains on it.

“Oh.” Castiel nodded. “That doesn’t seem healthy.”

“But it was cheap,” Dean muttered.

“Your body won’t like it. You should eat more healthily.”

“Fine, _yes, sir_ ,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll remember that the next time I have money for food.”

Castiel didn’t like the idea of Dean not taking care of himself. He was so keen on turning all that energy to outside world, but didn’t use any of it on himself. That didn’t seem like a fair trade.

“Wait here,” Castiel said, and then flew off.

“Where—”

This time, Castiel returned so fast that Dean was still saying the last words of his sentence.

“—would I even go—? Sheesh, that was fast. For once.”

“Here,” Castiel said. He placed the basket full of fruit on the coffee table, cleaning the boxes of half-eaten pizza away as he went.

“What’s this?” Dean asked. He picked one and turned the fruit around in his hands.

“Rambutan,” Castiel said. “Have you never seen one?”

“No,” Dean said, and Castiel felt a little pride in having introduced Dean to something new in turn. “This looks...I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“Try it,” Castiel said, taking one for himself as well. Dean followed his example as Castiel peeled the fruit. “There’s a merchant in Indonesia who gives me as many fruits as I want in exchange for his health.”

Dean glanced at him. “I thought you weren’t allowed any possessions.”

“It’s not a possession if I can eat it, is it?”

“That’s pretty sneaky, Cas,” Dean said, with a small smile. He finally bit into the fruit, and judging by the small smile on his face, he liked it. They stayed like that for a while, eating their fruit, with Dean on the couch and Castiel standing.

While Dean finished his rambutan, Castiel went to the shelf that held the DVDs. He had wanted to watch a movie for a long time, and it seemed like a good activity to do Dean. He didn’t seem to have energy for much else.

“Do you want to watch one of these?” Castiel asked. He held up a a case for Dean to see, having picked the movie at random.

“Uhh,” Dean said. “Sure. Just not that one.”

“Why not?” Castiel turned over the case in his hand, watching the cover. “‘Notting Hill’ sounds like it needs to be an interesting place to make a good story for a movie.”

“It’s one of my grandma’s,” Dean protested. His soul was flickering with darker shades again, and Castiel nearly huffed at that. Dean was a terrible liar.

“Well, I want to watch it,” Castiel decided. “So we’ll watch it.”

Dean huffed. “Sure. Whatever you wish for, sir.”

Castiel felt a pang at that – he hadn’t given Dean an order, had he? But it kind of had been a... strongly-worded suggestion? Did that count? – but before he could think about it too deeply, Dean had already taken the case from him and was setting up the TV. Mutely, Castiel sat down, deciding not to question the situation.

Castiel also didn’t question it when he heard Dean sniffle a little towards the end of the movie, and he didn’t point out the redness of Dean’s eyes when they finished. Dean didn’t say anything, but Castiel sensed that he was grateful for the silence.

“You plannin’ on flying out tonight, or are you staying?” Dean asked some time after nine. He’d spent the rest of the day cleaning the living room and the kitchen, with Castiel’s minimal help. Castiel had learned very quickly that Dean viewed his home just like Castiel viewed his own pocket universe: very personal, and preferably with no touches from outsiders. Even if in Dean’s case, almost nothing in the house was his.

“I have no need to fly out tonight,” Castiel said. He was also a bit tired from the time traveling, since he hadn’t been to the reaper realm in between the flights. “I’m tired,” he said, honestly.

“Didn’t you say you can go on days without sleeping and eating?” Dean asked, a little humor in his voice.

“Yes,” Castiel said, “but the mortal plane is making me tired.”

“Sure, it’s the mortal plane’s fault...”

“There’s not as much magic in here than in reaper realm,” Castiel grouched.

“Does that mean you don’t recharge as fast?”

“Evidently.”

“Okay. Well, um, I’ve got a room for you upstairs,” Dean said. His ears were turning pink, Castiel noticed with fascination. “I mean, while Sammy’s not here, I guess it’s the guest room, so... you can take that.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said. Dean’s ears were still tinged with pink as he lead Castiel upstairs to view the room, and Castiel had to stop himself from touching Dean as he followed the mortal. The bond between them stretched and tingled again, like it wanted to be touched, too, but when Castiel reached out, there was no movement coming from Dean’s end. Castiel quickly retreated his magic. There were apparently a lot of things about Dean that Castiel found fascinating, and he needed to get that under control. Dean wouldn’t like being touched like that.

“Here you go,” Dean muttered, opening up the first door on the right.

“Can I bring my personal belongings in here, Dean?” Castiel asked, looking around the room curiously. It was decorated sparsely, and Castiel guessed that despite Dean calling it Sam’s room, Sam had taken all his belongings with him when he left. The only things that hinted at a boy living in the room were the posters of football clubs and movies pinned on the walls, and even those were frayed at the corners.

“Can you...don’t you know the concept of a room of your own?”

“I’ve never had a room of my own,” Castiel said. “Well, not one that counted, anyway.”

“But you have a room?”

Castiel realized that he’d said too much, and didn’t answer that. It was cowardly, ignoring Dean and pretending to be immersed in the football posters, but Castiel didn’t want to tell Dean about his hiding spot. It felt...too personal. Too real. Something that he couldn’t share, at least not now.

Dean, luckily, just huffed and turned toward the bed. “Hope you can fit in that with your wings. It’s the biggest bed we got. Aside from mine, but that’s a double.”

“Why do you need such a big bed?” Castiel asked. “Are you waiting for someone to share it with?”

“I—yeah, sure, but you’re not sleeping in my bed,” Dean stammered, red flush spreading to his cheeks. “Not yet, anyway,” he muttered under his breath. Castiel heard it, and his heart took a leap at that, but he didn’t think Dean had meant for him to hear it, so he only smiled at the comment.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, sincerely. “This is very nice.”

“Good,” Dean said, smiling a bit. “Glad you like it.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel got uncomfortably quickly used to his new routine of sleep, morning coffee, Dean’s remarks about his tousled hair (until he learned to comb it before coming downstairs), and then...passing the day on his own. Dean still didn’t leave the house very much, although Castiel did accompany him to the grocery store once. Dean didn’t seem to like Castiel following him around, so Castiel made himself scarce most days, flying around the town and time and checking in on his old deals, as well as finding a few new ones. He only made very small deals that couldn’t possibly shake the foundation of the universe, because he still didn’t have any assignments, and during those days, he made more happy children with renewed limbs or eyes than he’d possibly ever made during his career. He was still waiting for Naomi to snap at him every moment, for misusing his powers and making too small deals or making deals at all, but there was nothing. No word from the reaper world at all, aside from one amused magical nudge from Gabriel and a curious one from Balthazar. They were both clearly interested in how things were going with Dean, so Castiel never answered those. He didn’t know how.

Castiel didn’t know what Dean did during the days. Dean said he was working on his resume or looking for work, but he never seemed to go out, and mostly seemed to spend his time in the living room, lounging on the couch, or few times in the garage, tinkering with his black car. Castiel had never spent such a long time among mortals and wasn’t sure about all the customs and behaviors, but he was certain that Dean’s loneliness and shutting inside the house wasn’t usual.

Castiel himself was getting frustrated and twitchy in the situation. He didn’t know how he could’ve helped Dean, aside from spending time with him, which was received with varying results. Sometimes Dean talked animatedly to him, introducing him to all kinds of new, fascinating mortal things, and even listened to Castiel’s chosen tales of universe (he couldn’t tell much, because Dean had trouble understanding the structure of different realms and how their societies worked, but Castiel told what he could). But other times, Dean was snappy, irritated, and almost completely non-verbal even after his morning coffee.

On those days, Castiel thought it best to leave him alone. He knew he was effectively avoiding the whole situation, flying around the earth and collecting very small amounts of life force, but the more he healed children in exchange for a few years of their lives, the less pressing the need to find a way to remove the bond between him and Dean became. He didn’t even think it as a problem anymore – it was just there, something he might have needed to solve at some point, but didn’t actively think of it. And as long as Naomi, or Michael, or Gabriel, wasn’t doing anything about it, Castiel didn’t feel like he needed to do anything about it, either.

It was Friday night when Castiel landed back into Dean’s living room, once again surprising Dean, who was sitting on the couch and watching TV, with an open book on his lap. It didn’t seem like he was concentrating on either, especially since he was fiddling his cellular phone with his other hand, and he looked messier, once again. As if he hadn’t showered in a few days or combed his hair today. Those days were always worrying for Castiel.

“Oh.” Dean stared at him. The cell phone in his hand slowly slid down, until Dean noticed that and put it on the couch next to him. He looked angry, and the bond tugged almost violently between them, as if Dean’s soul was trying to pull Castiel in. Castiel resisted it, since Dean looked so angry. “You’re back.”

“Of course,” Castiel said. He brushed dust off of his coat – a beige trench coat he’d put on for a specific trip to Illinois in 2025. Dean wrinkled his nose at it.

“What the hell is...that?”

“It’s a memento,” Castiel answered. He’d rather not have talked about it, but Dean was looking at him like he was single-handedly bringing down the fashion industry.

“Memento of what?”

“A man who sacrificed his life in order to save his family,” Castiel said. “His daughter got married today. I promised to take care of her, but I think her wife will do much better job of that.”

“Oh.” Anger seemed to drain out of Dean, and he seemed a little confused, now. Castiel waited, not knowing what to say. “Thought you weren’t coming back this time,” Dean muttered then.

“Why would you think that?” Castiel asked.

“You keep popping in and out of my life, dude. What am I supposed to think?”

“Oh.” Castiel blinked. “How long has it been since I was here?”

“Two weeks.”

He had once again overshot his destination, and by a lot. Even if Castiel had tried to follow the thread woven between them, it was still too new and tender to fully connect them. With Dean now in the same room as him, he could sense it better: it was becoming stronger, weaving them closer together, pulling the stray threads of magic in, like an actual rope. And this time, the pull went all the way to Dean’s soul – it wasn’t just from Castiel’s side.

“I apologize,” Castiel said. He tried to push the bond from his mind, although it was incredibly distracting, with the way it kept trying to pull him to Dean. “Traveling to this timeline is harder than it seems.”

“You’re really traveling through time?” Dean asked. “Wait, if you can travel through time, why can’t you just go back and undo this...bond between us?”

“Because some events in time are fixed, Dean. They’re crossroads of time. I made my choice by accepting your assignment, and you made yours by taking the deal. It can’t be reversed.”

Castiel didn’t add that he wasn’t sure did he even want to cancel the deal anymore.

“But can’t you just go back in time and meet me earlier?”

Castiel smiled a bit at that – in typical fashion, Dean was offering the most pragmatic answer, and he had to counter it with arbitrary rules of magic. “Unfortunately, no. Once I’ve interacted with you on this timeline, the previous one disappears. I can’t make the choice again.”

“So…if you don’t interact with me, you could go back?”

“I suppose.” Castiel had never thought of it. “I could try it. Fly to tomorrow and then back to this moment.”

“Uhh, no, you’re not going anywhere,” Dean said. “You’ve been gone for two weeks. What if next time you overshoot by two months? Or years?”

Dean tried to mask it, but the pull from the bond was too much. Castiel gave in, and sat down on the couch next to Dean, careful to keep his hands to himself but not sitting too far away. His wings had a mind of their own and naturally gravitated towards Dean, and Castiel didn’t try to stop them. In fact, Dean seemed more relaxed at that.

“Dean, I’m a very good flier,” Castiel said. “I wouldn’t get lost.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Dean muttered.

“Were you worried about me?” Castiel asked, surprised. Dean hadn’t clearly expected the question, and looked elsewhere, ears a little pink.

“No,” he lied, badly. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at that. Despite lying frequently, Dean was astonishingly bad at it, when you knew what to look out for. “Maybe,” Dean said then. “That Naomi chick was pretty scary. I thought she’d snatched you up.”

“Naomi wouldn’t ‘snatch’ me,” Castiel said, almost laughing at the thought. “She’s my superior. If she wanted to see me – which isn’t likely at this point – she would simply call me to her office.”

“Right,” Dean said. “With reaper mail?”

“Mail?” Castiel remembered the concept of that, of course, and had seen mail boxes outside of Dean’s house, but he’d never thought to apply the same concept for reapers.

“Those scrolls that you keep getting.”

“Oh. Those are only meant for assignments and emergencies. If we want to talk, we usually send out a magic pulse.”

Dean frowned at that. “I thought you guys had a hive mind?”

“Only the lower classes. Why would you want to have a hive mind?” Castiel asked, dryly. He never wanted to go back to that, only thinking clearly when he had a mission to complete. He enjoyed having other thoughts outside of just solving how to get close enough to a soul he needed to collect. “We can feel each others’ presence, but can’t hear their thoughts, thankfully.”

“Yeesh, okay,” Dean said. “That’s a blessing, then. I wouldn’t wanna know what Gabriel is thinking day in and day out, either.”

Castiel laughed at that. He looked at Dean, fondness only growing in his chest, and happily noted that Dean was watching him with the same look on his face.

“Have you left the house at all while I’ve been gone?” Castiel dared to ask then. The fondness that had been evident on Dean’s face was immediately gone, replaced with a bland look.

“Not much.”

“Hmm.” Castiel’s right wing stretched out and then nudged closer to Dean, and Castiel let it. “So where did you go?”

“You know. Uh. Groceries and...stuff.”

“Is that it?”

“Why’re you on my ass about this?” Dean asked, annoyed. “Can’t a grown man spend a nice evening in?”

“Of course you can,” Castiel said. “But is it normal for a grown man to not speak to anyone in two weeks, other than a cashier?”

Dean went quiet for a while. Castiel waited patiently, his wing pushing into Dean’s shoulder. Dean leaned back onto it, subconsciously or not.

“Of course it’s not,” Dean finally muttered. “Look, if you haven’t figured it out yet, you got saddled with the most useless human being on the planet.”

“Dean—”

“Look, man, you—you’d be better off without me.” Dean snorted, humorlessly. “Guess you got the wrong Winchester, after all.”

“Dean, no, that’s not what I—why do you think that?”

Dean was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “I raised Sammy. He was—he was mine. My kid, in all but name. I raised him. I clothed him, I fed him. I worked all through high school to support him, and I dropped out when I couldn’t fit my studies in. I got him to law school. That’s my only accomplishment. And now...” Dean huffed, sadly. “Now I have nothing. None of this is my own.” He gestured at the room, filled with his grandparents’ things. “I don’t have a job, or a partner, or even friends.” He gulped. “I never had any time for them. Everyone’s forgotten about me.”

Castiel had suspected that Dean thought so badly of himself, but it was still hard to hear. Hesitantly, he pressed his wing against Dean’s shoulder.

“Then you need better friends, Dean.”

“What would you know about that?” Dean snapped. “Don’t you have anyone else to bother instead of staying inside with my mortal ass?”

“Your ass is certainly mortal,” Castiel quipped, watching with amusement as Dean’s face turned into a radiant shade of red, “but even it needs to hang somewhere else than this house.”

“Well, yeah, that’s easy for you to say! All you ever do is fly around the world and ignore me!”

“I don’t—I’m not ignoring you!” Castiel huffed. “I’m working!”

“While being suspended,” Dean said. “Great. How’s that going, so far? You being welcomed back with open arms now?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel said, petulantly. “At least I’m doing something.”

“While ignoring _this_ whole problem,” Dean said, pointing at them.

They stared at each other for a while, unsure where this debate was going. Then something dawned on Castiel.

“You really don’t have any friends here?”

All the fight went out of Dean, and he slumped down on his seat. Castiel’s wing followed his movement.

“I guess I don’t,” Dean muttered. “I mean...I used to hang out with a few guys from work, but... They were more like drinking buddies than anything else. And before that, there were my friends from high school, but... most of them have moved away. And I haven’t seen lots of them in years.” He glanced up at Castiel. “Guess you have your reaper friends, though.”

Castiel frowned. “Not really.”

“What do you mean? I met Gabriel, at least. You hang out with an archangel, man.”

“He’s...” Castiel didn’t know how to describe Gabriel. “He’s family,” he settled on saying. “Like an annoying cousin who never goes away.”

Dean snorted. “Anyone else?”

“There’s...” Castiel paused. He thought of Balthazar, and how they always sat in the common room together, but never actually _talked_. He had no idea what Balthazar thought of the thousand other realms or their habitats, or what was the most tragic deal he had had to make, or what was a deal that had blundered. Balthazar was loud and abrasive, like Gabriel, but he never listened to what he was really saying.

“I guess no,” Castiel settled on saying. “Or at least I don’t know them as well as I thought I did.”

They stayed in silent for a while.

“If you try to re-connect with your friends from high school,” Castiel proposed, “then I’ll try to get to know Balthazar.”

“Who’s he?”

“We’ve served together for two thousand years.”

Dean raised his brows. “Wow. And you still don’t know the guy?”

“He talks a lot. I never listen.”

Dean laughed. “At least you’re honest about it. Alright, I’m game.” He leaned forward, closer to Castiel. Castiel ignored the jump in his chest and pushed the feeling down. “Maybe we both should to get out of the house so we don’t go stir-crazy and kill each, and while were out, make some new friends, or connect with old ones?”

Castiel smiled. “You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Dean was hesitant, but after Castiel’s strongly-worded suggestion (not an order, Castiel reminded himself), he agreed to call someone named Charlie, who he had been best friends with at some point. He also promised that he would leave the house and go to a nearby restaurant that his old friend owned, because he hadn’t visited there in years – “not since Sammy left to Stanford, fuck, that’s a long time ago.” In turn, Castiel flew back to the reaper realm, boldly ignoring the warning Naomi had given him. Naomi wouldn’t know he was spending time in one of the common rooms, since she never used them.

Balthazar was, as he had expected, lounging in his favorite couch in his favorite common room. He looked bored when Castiel arrived, and a relieved looking Samandriel nodded at Castiel when he sat down. Samandriel, a lower-ranking negotiator left almost immediately, explaining that he had work to do, but Castiel guessed that he had heard one too many lewd stories from Balthazar. Castiel made a mental note to try to get to know Samandriel next. He knew nothing about the young reaper, even if they had worked side by side for a couple of centuries now.

“How’s dearest Dean?” Balthazar asked when Castiel had sat down.

“Dean is fine.” Castiel settled better on the couch, angling himself towards Balthazar like he’d seen Dean do. He liked it when Dean showed that much interest in him, and wanted to show the same to Balthazar, now. “I came to hear how you are.”

Balthazar seemed stunned for a moment. “Me?”

“I want to know how you are.”

It kind of hurt to see how taken aback Balthazar was, as if he couldn’t believe Castiel was asking that.

“You’re serious?” Balthazar asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just...you’ve never been interested, before.” Balthazar looked touched. There were no dirty jokes, no lecherous looks – just a reaper who was seen for the first time. “Alright. Uh. Where do I start?”

“Just tell me how you’ve been lately. What did you think of your latest trip to the mortal plane?”

Balthazar huffed a laugh. “Cas, you know what the mortal plane is like. Better than me, in fact. I guess I should be asking you for updates about it.”

“But I don’t know what you think of it.”

Balthazar looked at him, stunned again. “You really believe I have individual thoughts and preferences?”

“Balthazar, out of anyone here, I believe you possess the most distinctive tastes.”

Balthazar smiled. “Thank you.”

When stripped of his joking demeanor and lewd stories, Balthazar was surprisingly calm and taciturn, talking and telling his stories when given enough space. Castiel realized that he’d never actually seen Balthazar be as analytical and thoughtful, because he’d always hidden that under the surface of outrageous jokes and lewdness. He enjoyed the mortal world the hedonistic pleasures it offered, yes, but he also told Castiel about the time that he’d stayed at a dying couple’s side until one of the collectors came to escort them both away. The couple hadn’t been able to decide who should sacrifice their extra life force, because they wanted to die together, so they’d spent a lifetime arguing about it. It had been the longest on-going negotiation Balthazar had even had, lasting for over a decade.

“I hated the gig at the _Titanic_ , though,” Balthazar sighed. “Not the boat – though that was a nightmare to arrange—“

“Oh, right, I remember spending ages negotiating with this first-class gentleman who didn’t want to save his wife and newborn child—”

“Right? But that was nothing compared to that dreadful song and that insulting movie. Sometimes I wonder why mortals are so obsessed with their own mortality and the tragedy of it.”

“Because it’s all they have. They can’t let go of it,” Castiel mused. Castiel blinked when he saw how softly Balthazar was looking at him.

“You’re a strange reaper, Castiel, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Everyone,” Castiel shrugged. He had been told he was strange his whole existence as a reaper. It was nothing new.

Balthazar smiled. “Strange doesn’t mean bad, darling. It just makes you who you are.”

Castiel had no answer to that, so he could only smile back.

 

* * *

 

The house was clean and Dean was smiling when Castiel got back. He was also cooking – something he hadn’t done in a while, judging by the pile of very old dishes in the sink, that also had disappeared now. Dean’s meeting with Charlie had clearly gone well.

Without asking, Dean brewed them both a cup of coffee, chatting about Charlie all the while and the adventures they’d gotten into while in high school. He seemed much happier, just from one meeting with a friend. Castiel himself felt lighter.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, suddenly. Castiel blinked at the nickname. Gabriel and Balthazar used it occasionally, but from Dean’s mouth, the nickname seemed somehow…different. Castiel couldn’t put a finger on it, but he liked the way Dean’s mouth formed the syllables, and at least payed much more attention to it. “That was a good order.”

“Good suggestion,” Castiel corrected him.

“Nah,” Dean said, with a slight smile, “good order. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t kicked my ass.”

“Alright,” Castiel relented, smiling back. “Good order.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. The green hues of his soul were dancing, and Castiel felt a tug in his heart.

He felt alive, when he looked at Dean. Like a person.

“Dean, when you said that one day I’ll overshoot my destination and go missing for two years—”

“Uh, yeah...?”

“I never get lost when I fly,” he said then, quietly. “But if I do, I promise I’ll find my way back to you.”

Dean swallowed and looked away.

“No getting rid of you, is there.”

“No,” Castiel simply said. Dean didn’t answer, but Castiel could feel how the bond between them jumped happily.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean hadn’t still gotten a job, but at least he was now more active. Castiel couldn’t cook, but he could entice Dean to teach him, and when Castiel poked enough, Dean would message his friends and try to maintain relationships, or at least try to re-connect with people. He also went outside, to other places than just the grocery store, with Castiel almost always accompanying him. Dean whined about it, saying that Castiel was his “creepy stalker,” but Castiel could feel how much easier the bond between them rested whenever they went outside and Dean got to show Castiel around Lawrence. He also tinkered with his car, something that Castiel had absolutely no interest in, although he’d once sat and kept company to Dean, trying to please him. Dean had noticed how bored Castiel was and had sent him on a short flight, which had resulted in two years for Castiel’s collection for Kevin Tran and a very happy woman with two healthy children.

Castiel was getting worried that he might never complete his assignment on Kevin Tran and his mother, and those poor souls would die before their time, because Naomi held firm and wasn’t assigning any cases for Castiel. Other controllers seemed to have taken the hint and also weren’t assigning anything to Castiel, and there was a limit on how many small children Castiel could heal and how many short months or years he could gather before Naomi noticed and banned him from doing that, too. But at least Castiel was doing something productive, which helped his mood.

It was a happy surprise when Castiel finally got another assignment – again from Anna. She had a bit of a rebellious streak, so Castiel wasn’t that surprised she dared to send him one, but he was surprised that the instructions on the assignment told him to take Dean with him. Anna apparently thought that Dean should get used to the reaper world, not just as an onlooker, but as a participant.

Dean was on the couch reading again when Castiel flew back. That was another change that had happened during the last couple of days – Dean had started to read, instead of watching TV. He was also a fast reader when he wasn’t sulking, because he’d finished yesterday’s book and had a new one started already. This time, Dean didn’t startle as badly, although he still jumped when Castiel put down his wings.

“Sheesh, we need to get you a bell,” Dean muttered, putting his book down. “What’s up, Blue Öyster Cult?”

Castiel had no idea what Dean was referencing, and had no answer to that.

“Okay, not a classic rock fan,” Dean said. “Noted.”

“I...could research that,” Castiel suggested. He was afraid that he’d missed something important. Dean snorted at him, though, so perhaps not.

“Thanks, but it’s not that important.” He smiled a little. “So, what’s the rush? Are you going somewhere?”

“We’ve been given a tentative assignment,” Castiel announced.

“We?”

“We,” Castiel nodded. “Anna thought it would be beneficial for you to see how deals work.”

“Fine, boss-man, what’s your first command?”

“Don’t call me that,” Castiel said. “Our first mission is to acquire life force from a woman called Sarah Blake.”

Dean looked at him suspiciously. “Okay. Why?”

“So that I can hand it over to Kevin Tran, a twenty-year-old who will die too soon otherwise. I’ve been working on his assignment for months, so it’s important that we finish this soon.”

Dean blinked. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“I never joke about my job,” Castiel said.

“I—never mind.” Dean took a breath. “Are we going, already?”

“For your sake, Anna has chosen an assignment that is situated in the United States,” Castiel said. “I was reminded that you don’t speak any languages.”

“Geez, no need to rub it in. And I speak Spanish!”

“Oh,” Castiel blinked. “No lo sabía. ¿Dónde aprendiste español?”

“Uh…what?”

“So you don’t speak Spanish.”

“I totally do!” Dean protested. “It’s just, maybe, mostly…sentences I’ve learned from...”

“From?”

“Soaps, okay,” Dean muttered. He grabbed his chest and bellowed, “Eduardo, no me dejes!”

Castiel stared at Dean. He couldn’t decide was this mortal the strangest he’d ever met, but at least he was the most entertaining. Life with Dean certainly wasn’t boring.

“Tough crowd,” Dean said when Castiel didn’t react to his dramatic re-enactment. Castiel hid a smile by turning away and flexing his wings.

“We should get going,” he said. He walked away from the coffee table, towards the large window. “Come here.”

Dean stood up and followed without a comment, settling close to Castiel’s side. Castiel’s wings reacted before he did, drawing Dean even closer. Dean rose his eyebrows at that, but said nothing when Castiel dropped his wings again.

“In ordinary circumstances, this would be a routine mission,” Castiel explained. “Energy transference between close souls, or souls crafted close to each other.”

“Okay, so...why’s this case special?”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “What makes it harder is that I have to take you along with me.”

“Way to make a guy feel special, Cas.”

The bond flared between them, as if hinting at something unnamed. Castiel swallowed and banished the thought that had been threatening to form.

“Hang on to me and don’t say anything until I tell you to.”

“Why should—”

That was all Dean managed to say before Castiel took to flight. He suppressed a smirk when he saw Dean’s mouth open to a silent scream, and took Dean’s elbow to steady him when they landed. Dean was blinking rapidly, and looked a little green, but thankfully, he didn’t throw up. Castiel dropped his hand that had been steadying Dean, but Dean still hovered close, probably disoriented after the flight. This was the first time he had flown so far back in time with Dean, and flying through the veil of time was harder than simply changing realms.

“Where are we?” Dean asked.

Castiel shushed him. “Try to stay invisible this time,” he muttered. Dean opened his mouth to ask about that, but Castiel’s look quickly shut him up. “Follow me.”

They had landed in a room full of antiquated items, gorgeously decorated with plush sofas and decorative pillows. Dean looked around the room with amazement in his eyes, and Castiel himself couldn’t stop an admiring glance around the room.

“Where are we? French castle or something?”

“Milwaukee, 2003,” Castiel said.

Dean had a moment’s pause, and then he asked, “Okay, lots to unpack there. One, if we are in Milwaukee, why does this look like the Beast’s enchanted castle? And second, 2003, really? When we could’ve gone to anywhere in time?”

Castiel smiled at that. “You’d rather go to Pompeii to make a deal before the eruption?”

“Would be cooler than Milwaukee in 2003,” Dean said. “At least there’s this,” he said, pointing at the antiques all around them.

“This is an auction house. They are auctioning off very old items. The auction house itself is a reflection of that.”

Dean looked around the room again, this time an understanding in his eyes. Castiel went to the only door of the room and opened it. It opened to another room, much bigger than the library they were in, and was full of people. Castiel observed a moment, wings tingling when he felt Dean move to beside him.

“Who’s the mark?” Dean asked.

“She’s right there, by the fireplace,” Castiel muttered back. “Talking to the older gentleman.”

Sarah Blake’s soul was dull green, with spots of yellow mixed in. It was a nice soul, full of joy, which was accentuated by the glittery air around her. There was much less of that than in Dean’s soul, but no one came near Dean’s energy levels.

“Pretty,” Dean observed. Castiel pulled his wings tighter against his body. “So, what’s the plan? If she doesn’t wanna talk to you, you’ll just rip out the energy and go?”

Castiel was appalled. “I can’t do that, Dean. She would die!”

“Oh.”

“And I cannot force anyone to make a deal, either. That is completely against the rules!” Castiel snapped. “Our mission is to guard the natural order of this universe, to maintain the balance, not tip the scales in favor of _anyone_. If someone has excessive amounts of life force, it was our mistake in the first place. We can’t just…‘rip it out.’”

“Right,” Dean coughed, looking at least a bit chastised. “Which is why you offer payment for it.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m still not convinced you listened to a single word I said when I made the deal with you. Or after that.”

“Hey, I thought that was clear from the start,” Dean said. “Dying brother, mortgage payments, hospital bills, yeah, I wasn’t really present in my own head back then.”

Dean said it with an air of levity, but Castiel saw nothing funny in that. Dean probably couldn’t tell, but the bond between them pulsed sadly, pulling Castiel closer, as if in comfort. Castiel resisted the urge to wrap Dean in his wings.

“What happens if she refuses?” Dean asked then.

“Then Kevin Tran will not get the life force he needs to live,” Castiel said. He didn’t want to pressure Dean, or himself, but it was a fact. There was a certain window to correct mistakes on soul level, and Kevin’s window was closing. Castiel needed the energy for him – and his mother – fast, or that window would expire. In usual circumstances, Castiel would have already completed the mission, but with the soul bond to Dean and Naomi springing Kevin’s mother on top of everything... It was getting too late.

“Can’t you negotiate with him?”

“The negotiations are only needed to acquire energy. I can give him the energy without being detected.”

“You can’t rip the energy out, but you can put it in without detection?”

Castiel hemmed. “Think of the Lego blocks again. If I stole blocks from someone’s pile of Legos, they’d notice when they started to build their castle.”

“And if ‘they’ were a five-year old, cry.”

“Right,” Castiel smiled. “And if I added to someone’s pile a few block, they wouldn’t know about that. To them, that was always the correct amount of blocks to build a proper house.”

“You’re pretty good with this metaphor,” Dean commented. “So if she rejects the deal, she keeps all the blocks?”

“Yes.”

“But can’t you try again later?”

“No,” Castiel said. “She’s been marked. No one will attempt to make another deal with her soul. We only get one chance.”

“Wow. No pressure, then,” Dean muttered. “So how are you gonna deal with her?”

“I need to talk to her alone,” Castiel said. Sarah Blake was still talking to the old gentleman near the fireplace, and it looked like the auction was going to start soon. Castiel mused that they could wait until then, and pull her aside while everyone’s attention was elsewhere. Reapers weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone else but the mark.

“Alright,” Dean said. “At least I can help with something.”

Dean grinned at him, and then slipped out of the room.

“Dean, no!” Castiel whispered, but he had already disappeared into the crowd. Castiel sighed, hid his wings, and tried to follow Dean. A few people glanced suspiciously at him as he exited the library, and he guessed that it didn’t look very good that two people came out of a secluded room with so little time apart.

The crowd effectively blocked his way, and annoyed, Castiel briefly considered just flashing everyone his wings and terrifying them into leaving, but besides being entertaining, it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Castiel dodged an elderly gentleman’s elbow that threatened to get acquainted with his stomach – he may have let his wings slip from other dimension to this just enough to push the gentleman back – and finally reached a position from where he could see Dean talking to Sarah.

They weren’t talking. Dean was leading Sarah to the side, to a secluded room. Castiel had seen mortals fall in lust fast, and trust each other when there were no reasons to, but this was faster than he’d ever expected. It pinched his stomach a little to see that, and he had to rein in his emotions before they went haywire. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this, not about Dean. Even with the bond pulling them so close together.

Shaking his head, Castiel followed the pair.

“What business did you say you were in, Mr. Winchester?” Sarah asked as they entered the room.

Castiel closed the door behind him, making Sarah and Dean turn around. Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Of the dying kind,” Dean quipped. “This is my boss.”

“Dean, I’m hardly your boss,” Castiel sighed. He let his wings out, which shocked Sarah so much that she stumbled backwards.

“What the—what are you?” She turned to Dean. “And you? Why did you lead me here?”

“I’m a grim reaper,” Castiel began the familiar speech, but didn’t get far before Dean interrupted him.

“Though not the reaping kind.”

“Dean,” Castiel said with veiled patience, “you need to stay quiet. You cannot negotiate.”

Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. He shut his mouth and gestured for Castiel to continue.

Sarah didn’t seem to believe Castiel at first, but the more he explained, the more she calmed down. She seemed dubious about the concept of life force, but was willing to listen, at least. But when it came to negotiating about her extra years, she closed off.

“I still don’t understand,” she said, “Why should I take the deal? I don’t want to lose any days of my life.” She glanced at Dean. “Did you take the deal?”

“No, I took the other deal.”

“The…other deal? So you didn’t lose days of your life?”

“No, I became his pet,” Dean said.

“What? He _enslaves your soul_?”

“Dean!” Castiel hissed. “I told you to not interfere!”

“No, I mean, more like he keeps me around for company until I’m toast,” Dean said, trying to correct his blunder. “So if I were you, I’d take the Number deal. And you can get whatever you want in return.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, his tone dripping venom, “you are not a reaper. You cannot negotiate a deal. Anything you say will be invalid. So would you _please_ stay quiet?”

That, at least, got a reaction out of Dean. He blinked, swallowed, and then nodded, retreating to the edge of the room. Sarah watched him with round eyes, but returned her focus on Castiel when he stepped forward.

“Although Dean’s terminology was…flawed,” Castiel said, throwing another glare at Dean, who rolled his eyes at Castiel, “the concepts were true in essence.”

“In essence,” Sarah said, still looking between him and Dean. “So if I give you years off of my life, I can have whatever I want?”

“In proportion to your contribution, yes. And some exceptions apply,” Castiel was quick to add. “I cannot bring back to life anyone who has already left the plane, and I can’t make you immortal.”

“Definitely not asking for that,” Sarah said. “I’d just like to own an authentic Van Gogh.”

“Sheesh, not asking for much, are we?” Dean muttered from the side. Castiel flapped his left wing at him, hitting Dean in the face (gently, of course – he didn’t actually want to hurt Dean), and held his laughter when Dean let out a “Gah!” and stumbled backwards.

“Acquiring a Van Gogh is not easy,” Castiel said. “For that, I’d like to have at least twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” Sarah worried her lip. “How much do I have?”

“You have nine extra years to your natural lifespan.”

Sarah thought for a while. “I’d die eleven years early.”

“Yes.”

She went quiet, thinking over her options. In the side, Dean squirmed, clearly wanting to say something. Castiel threw a look at him and tried to gently push his wing at Dean, signaling that this was a pivotal moment that he shouldn’t interfere with.

“Van Gogh is worth that much?” Dean asked then, shocked.

It was an innocent question, but asked just the wrong moment. Sarah’s expression closed off and she went back to unsure. Castiel held his breath – he couldn’t chastise Dean now, but later on, he’d be tempted to yell at him. Dean needed to understand that this was important; he needed the life force from Sarah Blake. Dean couldn’t influence mortals like this, even if he was one.

“He’s right,” Sarah then said. “I’m not taking the deal. Nothing is worth that.”

“You still have life force on you that you won’t need,” Castiel tried. “May I take it?”

“No,” she said, already turning her back. “I’m not dying early.”

“Please understand, this is life force you won’t be using. I need to give it to someone else who needs it.”

She looked at them both, then shook her head. “I shouldn’t have drunk all that wine,” she muttered, and turned her back to them. Without looking back, she walked away.

The door had barely closed behind her when Castiel grabbed Dean by the shoulder and flew them away. Dean yelped as they landed back to the living room, but Castiel didn’t let go of him. Furious, he felt his wings rise as high as they could go, ready to strike. His secondary limbs tensed, ready to strike as well.

Castiel took a breath. The bond between them pulsed and stretched, suddenly going haywire. There was too much adrenaline running between them, too many negative emotions. For once, Dean did look concerned and slightly afraid of him.

“You ruined the deal,” Castiel said.

“I wasn’t trying to!” Dean protested, voice wavering. “I just told her about her options!”

“You were talking of things that you have no knowledge of! You do not know the details of what I can and cannot do, and you certainly can’t tell the mortals what to do!”

“I’m a mortal!” Dean snapped. “I should be at least tell them how _not_ to make a deal!”

“You were supposed to be observing!” Castiel snapped. “Not negotiating!”

“I didn’t!”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you along,” Castiel huffed. The instant Dean’s eyes widened he knew that he’d gone too far.

“Dean—”

“No, no, I get it, it’s fine.” Dean looked away, anger drained out of him. “I shouldn’t have gotten into your way. I told you I’m just a burden, Cas.”

“You are not,” Castiel said. “You’re just…inexperienced with deals. As anyone would be. This is not your world.”

“But it’s yours, and I messed it up,” Dean said. Dean was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Cas. I…I didn’t know what to do. Seeing the negotiation and everything she had…I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s...” Castiel sighed. It wasn’t okay, because now he had no energy to transfer to poor Kevin Tran. It wasn’t okay, because Dean had reacted badly to the situation and had lashed out at the world. He didn’t want Dean to react like that.

Dean nodded when Castiel didn’t continue the sentence. He swallowed and looked down.

“What happens now?” Dean asked, in a small voice.

“Kevin Tran will die,” Castiel said. “I don’t have enough energy for him. And no time to get it.”

Dean was silent for a moment. Then he raised his eyes from the floor and looked Castiel straight in the eye.

“How does he die?”

“Dean...”

“How does he die, Cas?”

Castiel didn’t need to assignment scroll to remember that. Reluctantly, he said, “On December 3 rd , 2013, at eleven fifty-four, he’s going to get mugged while walking back to his house after fighting with his girlfriend. A man will stab him in the heart, and he will bleed out while trying to crawl back to her house.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s rough,” Dean said.

“I know,” Castiel said, dryly. “That’s why I wanted to save him. He’s also a very accomplished musician and linguist, and would go on to do very important work on Biblical translations.”

“That’s debatable,” Dean muttered. Then he straightened up. “Take me to him.”

“Dean, there’s no time. I don’t have any assignments. I don’t have enough energy for him.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re gonna fix that.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel frowned. “I can’t be seen by anyone. I don’t have the permission for that.”

“Yeah, you. But you can take _me_ to him.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. He considered this, unsure if he should trust Dean on this, but Dean held his gaze steadily. There was calmness in his soul, and the bond between them was rippling only slightly.

Dean’s eyes were very green, Castiel noted then. He swallowed and looked away.

“You can’t make a deal with him,” he warned.

“Wasn’t going to,” Dean said. “Just take me to him.”

Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and flew the away.

 

* * *

 

Kevin Tran in the year 2013 was a college student, living with his mother and devoting all his time to his language studies, and what little time there was left, to his girlfriend. He was extremely intelligent, nice if a bit shy young man, who faced every new experience with curiosity and rationale.

That didn’t stop him from screaming like a teenaged girl in a horror film when Dean appeared in front of him and said, “Don’t take that road, Kevin.”

Castiel was following the exchange from behind Dean, invisible. Early evening of December 3 rd was dark, but Castiel wasn’t willing to risk being seen by anyone.

“Who the hell are you?” Kevin yelled. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m...uh...let’s say a messenger. From beyond.”

Kevin regarded Dean with extreme disbelief. He stepped back, away from Dean. “Right. And I’m a prophet of God.”

“Hey, keep up your studies, and you will be,” Dean said. “Just don’t take that road. Or fight with your girlfriend tonight. Or if you do, don’t leave her house. You shouldn’t storm out after an argument, anyway. It’s not healthy.”

“Pot, kettle,” Castiel muttered into Dean’s ear, making him huff.

“You are crazy,” Kevin said. “I should call the police. Or a mental hospital.”

“But you’re not going to, are you,” Dean said. “That’s because deep down, you believe me.”

“Why would I?”

“Just—what harm is there, Kevin?” Dean huffed. “Promise me, if you leave her house tonight, you won’t walk back.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do, you’re going to get mugged and die,” Dean said.

“Are you threatening me?”

Dean huffed, irritated. “Whatever. Take it how you will. Just don’t...don’t walk back tonight.”

Kevin stared at him for a moment, still unsure. He didn’t look like he believed Dean, even a bit, but then he turned around and started to walk in the opposite direction. Step by step, Castiel could see the change in his soul: from nearly black, it changed to bright white, until his soul resembled a Dalmatian’s coat with all the spots. The darkness was still there, but it wasn’t as visible. Kevin wouldn’t die tonight.

“That was very innovative of you, Dean,” Castiel said, shedding off the invisibility. “It was also extremely stupid, because the Fates are going to orchestrate another death for him.”

“Fate? There’s a fate?” Dean asked. “I’m telling, you need to stop changing these rules on me. I didn’t know there was a fate! I thought it’d be enough if I warned him off!”

“Sometimes, it is,” Castiel agreed. “But not in this case. He’ll live tonight. And tomorrow, the same thing will happen. He’ll be mugged and killed.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. “This reaper stuff is harder than I thought.”

It wasn’t a humorous situation, but Castiel couldn’t help but smile at that.

“How much do you need?” Dean asked then, throwing Castiel completely off.

“What?”

“How much do you need for Kevin and his mom?”

Castiel made a quick calculation in his head. “For Kevin, nine years will be enough. For his mother, four.”

“So that’s thirteen years.” Dean nodded. “Okay. Make a deal with me.”

“What?”

“You said I have extra years, right? So take them from me.”

“Dean, I—” Castiel stared at Dean, unable to believe that the mortal would have come up with something like this. “I don’t know if—”

“Can you take them?”

“I...I guess I can,” Castiel hedged. “I can’t offer you another deal, because you’ve already done one, but if you—if you’re willing to sacrifice them, I could...I could just take them. I could try.”

The dull glow that surrounded people who had already done a deal was nowhere to be seen with Dean, and with the soul bond pulsing between them, Dean was already a strange case. The restrictions to his soul were different.

“I’m immortal, right?” Dean asked, grinning. “Can’t kill me unless something kills you, right?”

“That’s true.”

“So what the hell. Let’s make it even and take twenty years off of my life.”

“Dean, are you certain?” Castiel asked. His wings were trembling, and unable to stop it, the tips of his wings landed on Dean’s shoulders. “I’ve never done something like this before. This could hurt you physically. Or this could hurt your soul.”

“Can’t hurt what’s already broken,” Dean quipped. “C’mon, Cas, you wanted to fix this. I’m offering, so take me. I mean, uh, take my years.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smirk at him. “If you insist.”

Just like that, Castiel’s magic exploded into colors around them. Dean startled, taking a step back, and then relaxed when he recognized what was happening. This time the magic was golden streaks, bouncing in the air, and slowly melting into Dean’s soul, until they couldn’t be seen. After a short pause, the magic came bursting out of Dean, pulling green stripes of glittery air with it. Castiel waved his hand, and a small bottle appeared. Castiel wasn’t even surprised when he realized that Dean could also see that happening, and they both watched with fascination as the golden and green streaks of light went into the bottle and stayed there, forming a ball of light. The rest of the golden light disappeared, retreating back into Castiel, and with a wave of a hand, the small bottle was gone as well.

“Wow,” Dean said. He blinked, and stumbled a few steps backwards.

“Are you hurt?” Castiel asked. He surged forward, taking a hold of Dean with his wings, before he realized that he had to keep them hidden. Luckily, there was no one to witness them, and before they messed up further, Castiel grabbed Dean’s shoulder and flew them back home.

Dean was disoriented for a few moments after they landed, but then the dizziness seemed to pass. Castiel still held onto him with his wings, worriedly checking Dean’s soul and going over each color.

“Are you alright?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Didn’t feel a thing. Or, I dunno. It was warm.”

“Warm?”

“Yeah, like a hug...I dunno,” Dean said, flushing red. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Good,” Castiel said. He pressed closer to Dean, feeling the pull of the bond stronger than ever before, and wanted to take Dean into his arms. Instead, he held his wings around Dean, enjoying the half-grin Dean gave him in back.

“You are an incredibly foolish man, Dean Winchester. The stupidest mortal I’ve ever met.”

“Hey,” Dean said, feebly.

“And yet, somehow, the bravest and most innovative,” Castiel said. “This is more than enough for Kevin and Linda Tran. You’ve saved them, Dean.”

“I have?” He smiled. “So it worked? We’re not in trouble?”

“Oh, we’re in so much trouble,” Castiel said, and Dean grinned. “But it was worth it.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel left Dean alone while he went to transfer the life force for Kevin and Linda Tran. He always felt good when he completed a deal or an assignment, but this time, he couldn’t stop smiling when he added the energy into Kevin’s soul. With all that Castiel had collected and the few extra years from Dean, Kevin Tran would live to be seventy-three. It was still low, but much better than dying at twenty. And his mother would also live for twenty years more, with would be better for Kevin and his future children as well.

Castiel was so happy about the completed transfer that he missed the unknown presence following him to Dean’s house until it was too late. When he landed in the hallway, so did his follower.

“Castiel,” a voice said from behind him. Castiel held back the sigh – he recognized that voice.

“Atropos,” he said, greeting her with a nod. She looked the same as always, with her straight blonde hair and glasses, as well as a suit, but her huge white wings weren’t visible. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason,” Atropos spat. “I haven’t needed to see you for a while. You usually don’t make mistakes like this.”

“What mistake?” Castiel tried. Atropos glared at him.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! That boy there – you shouldn’t have saved him!”

“Hey!” Dean’s voice interrupted them, and before Castiel could stop him, Dean had already entered the hallway. He looked confused about the guest, but came to stand by Castiel’s side nonetheless.

“Who’s this, Cas?”

“This is one of the Fate sisters,” Castiel sighed. “Atropos.”

“Castiel,” Atropos said, just as venomously.

“Do I detect some sort of unfinished business between exes?” Dean grinned.

“Absolutely not,” Castiel and Atropos said at the same time.

“Right,” Dean coughed. “I’m guessing you’re not here to congratulate us on the job well done.”

“He’s funny, your mortal pet,” Atropos said to Castiel, ignoring Dean.

“Do not call him that,” Castiel said. Atropos looked taken aback by that, and straightened up.

“You really shouldn’t have done that. He was ready to die. I had my mugger ready!”

“We haven’t broken any rules, Atropos. I’ve completed my transfer, and Kevin Tran has the appropriate amount of life force again.”

“You traveled through time and interfered with the time line!”

“Yeah, uh, that was me,” Dean said, raising his hand. “My idea.”

“I don’t care whose idea it was,” Atropos snapped. “You interfered with the script. Now I need to rewrite his life! Do you know how much work that is?”

“You don’t need to rewrite it,” Castiel argued. “It was always agreed that Kevin Tran should live. We – or, Dean – just found another way to get him enough life force.”

“Fine. I’ll give him this. Out of all the possible fates, your mortal managed to pick the one time line in which the boy doesn’t die.” Atropos raised her brows. “Oh, he’s good, Castiel. Very good at distracting you. You should keep him.”

“Can’t return me, either,” Dean commented from the side, with a wide grin.

“You two truly deserve each other. Both just as strange and off-putting,” Atropos spat. Then she collected herself and said, “Rest assured, Castiel, there will be consequences. You have ignored the protocols, and let a mortal dictate what you should do. That is a serious offense.” She glared at them both. “Farewell for now.”

With that, Atropos disappeared from sight. Castiel sighed, letting his wings droop. One of them hit Dean in the head, but he didn’t seem that bothered by it. They made their way to the kitchen, and Castiel settled against the counter to watch as Dean started to cook.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Dean said. “She wasn’t as mad as I thought she’d be.”

“She’s very, very mad,” Castiel said. “She only gets polite when she’s about to stab you.”

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.”

“Maybe,” Castiel said, not wanting to relive those particular memories. Actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember what he’d ever done to Atropos. He only remembered that she disliked him for some reason, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember the reason. “I don’t think we should do any more assignments for a while.”

“I dunno,” Dean said. “I think that went rather well.” He nudged Castiel, and a ripple of warmth went through the bond. Castiel startled when he realized that the warmth wasn’t coming from him – it was coming from Dean. Dean’s soul was opening up, letting the bond in, letting _Castiel_ in.

Dean couldn’t have realized what the moment meant, but for a while, Castiel was unable to take his eyes off of Dean.

“You know, you’re not what I expected,” Dean then said.

“What do you mean?”

Dean regarded him for a moment. “You actually care, don’t you?”

Castiel couldn’t speak for a moment. He didn’t know how to answer Dean’s question.  _Of course I care_ , he wanted to say, but it felt presumptuous to say that.

“You tried to cancel my deal,” Dean said. “You healed Sammy. You offered to heal Krissy. And you wanted to save Kevin Tran, even if it cost you.”

“Of course,” Castiel frowned. “He deserved those years.”

“Still.” Dean smiled a bit. “Worst demon I ever met.”

“Reaper.”

“You don’t seem like one,” Dean said.

“My peers always thought I was a changeling,” Castiel admitted. He didn’t know why the sentence slipped out of his mouth, but he didn’t exactly regret it, either.

“You are more like a guardian angel than a demon,” Dean said, smiling. Castiel knew he was joking about the demon part, but it still stung.

“I was never a demon,” he protested.

“Dark clothes,” Dean said, “leathery wings. Negotiations to steal my soul? Adds up to a demon for me.”

“I didn’t steal your soul,” Castiel said, weary about the argument, even if it was more of a joke now. “We negotiated about it, and you offered it as payment.”

“Demon,” Dean said, but surprisingly, he didn’t seem upset about the fact.

Castiel sighed. “Whatever you say, Dean.”

Dean’s smug smile and the spark it sent down Castiel’s spine was worth the slight sting Castiel still got when he thought about being compared to disgusting demons.

“Or at the very least, you are a cross between a demon and an angel,” Dean mused.

“Huh,” Castiel said, entertained by this new thought. “A hybrid of demon and angel. A reaper.” He mused this. “It might as well be true. We don’t have any written history.”

Dean frowned. “You have six ranks of reapers and paperwork to fill a museum on assignments, but you don’t know your own history?”

“We aren’t born, we are made,” Castiel answered. “New reapers simply...appear at time. And old ones disappear. We don’t know how, or why.” He glanced at Dean’s horrified expression and continued, “I’m certain the gods know. It’s their duty to keep us in line, in any way.”

“Gods, as in...plural.”

“Of course. You didn’t think there was only one god to keep an eye on the vastness of the realms?”

“Well, I...” Dean trailed off. “Guess I did. Seems odd to me, but then again, I never believed in reapers until I met one, either.”

“Rude awakening,” Castiel commented, making Dean snort.

“Yeah,” he said, “rude awakening.”

The bond rippled with warmth again, and Castiel lost his trail of thought, chasing down the feeling. Dean watched him curiously, not feeling the bond, but letting Castiel look at him, all the same.

It was becoming harder and harder to remember why Castiel should ever even try to find a way to break the bond.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, Castiel expected Naomi to come screaming down to Earth herself, or at least send him a nasty magic pulse to call him in for a meeting the second Atropos left. But nothing happened in few days. Absolutely nothing, apart from Dean showing Castiel how to rake leaves in the backyard, and Castiel starting to fix the old fence, without his magic. He quite enjoyed the feeling of using his hands to hammer down nails and place new planks, even if he did, admittedly, cheat with magic in some places. When the call for a meeting finally came, it came in the form of a scroll. Since scrolls required magic to charm them, they were usually used only for assignments or other larger amounts of information – who wanted to use up their energy for short comments that they could say out loud to each other? – Castiel knew it was bad. Naomi had viewed this important enough that she’d charmed the scroll herself, and scrawled the few lines on it.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, stepping inside the house from the backyard. He was lucky the neighbors hadn’t seen the scroll when it came flying through the air.

“Assistant reaper, reporting for duty,” Dean called from upstairs.

“Dean, you have no duties as a reaper. Only as my—” Castiel paused, because he truly didn’t know what to call Dean. His assistant? His pet? His charge? His—

...friend?

Possibly. But it wasn’t the time to think about the warm feeling he got whenever he looked at Dean’s soul and felt the bond pulse between them.

Dean came down the stairs, stopping at the last step when he saw Castiel’s look.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been called me to a meeting,” Castiel sighed.

“Is it our old friend, ‘thinks she’s better than you’?”

“You could at least show some respect, Dean. She’s my controller.”

“Your _what_?” Dean snickered. “I thought you did all the controlling.”

“Very funny, Dean.” Castiel threw the scroll away, and it disappeared halfway through the throw. Dean looked startled at that, but relaxed quickly. He was getting more used to seeing magic performed before him. “I told you, a controller makes sure that every soul has enough energy in them. They check for mistakes crafters might have made, and when they spot one, they send a negotiator to retrieve or add that life force.”

“Balancing the life force, yeah, yeah, heard this speech before,” Dean said. “So...why’s she calling you now? Because of Kevin?”

“Naomi only calls me to meet her for one reason,” Castiel said. “She thinks I’ve made a mistake.”

“Have you?”

“Of course,” Castiel said, but he wasn’t thinking of Kevin Tran’s soul or Sarah Blake’s soul. He thought of the smile Dean had given him when he’d saved Kevin Tran. “Not that I’d ever admit that to her.”

Dean snorted a laugh. “You’re really something, Cas.”

Castiel’s chest lurched, and at that moment, couldn’t have cared less if Naomi fired him following this assignment. It was a price he’d gladly pay if it got Dean to call him ‘Cas’ with that smile again.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Visiting the working district was never fun, but this time it was making Castiel sweat. The last time he’d taken Dean to the reaper realm, they’d been left relatively in peace, but now, word about Castiel’s bond to a mortal had spread like wildfire, and those who could see Dean soul were pointing him out to those who couldn’t. Castiel tugged Dean closer to his side with his wing, unaware that he was doing that until they were pressed together. Only then, he eased up on his wing and let it fall from Dean’s shoulder.

Dean didn’t seem to mind that, though. He stayed close even after Castiel had dropped the wing, and Castiel could see from the tightening of his jaw that he disliked being so openly gaped at. Castiel wished he could’ve hidden Dean from view with his wings, but that would’ve brought on more questions – from others, and between them.

“Never seen a human before?” Dean snapped at one reaper who tried to touch Dean’s shoulder as they passed. The reaper backed away, but Dean’s outburst didn’t help the stares aimed at them.

“It’s not you they’re staring at,” Castiel tried to console him. Dean was still walking so close that his left wing tingled with the non-contact.

“What else if not my handsome face?”

“Your face is very pleasing,” Castiel said, deadpan, and managed to get a snort out of Dean. “But it’s the bond between us that’s odd.”

“Oh.” Dean glanced down at his chest, although he obviously couldn’t see anything. Despite being able to see magic, Dean’s abilities weren’t sharp enough to reach the delicate levels of soul magic. Castiel didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved by that. At least he didn’t have to explain to Dean what different colors in souls signified, but he also couldn’t explain what the True Name deal had irreversibly changed in Dean’s soul. Castiel didn’t have a soul, because mortals were the only creatures with souls, but he could feel how the bond anchored itself somewhere around his heart. The bond itself was visible only where it met Dean’s soul; an elastic-like substance, in constant motion, anchored around his True Name, rippling with whatever colors Dean’s soul was emitting. It was beautiful to look at.

“They still shouldn’t stare,” Castiel said, frowning as he noticed some of the reapers point at Dean.

“‘S fine, Cas.”

Castiel was so annoyed – both by the onlookers and the prospect of talking to Naomi – that he passed the stream of souls without waiting for Dean. Dean seemed to sense that this wasn’t the time to enjoy the sights, and gave no comment as they walked over the bridge.

Some other time Castiel would have loved to show Dean all the curious sights of his realm, but for now, that had to wait. Although Castiel imagined that Dean would be rendered speechless if he ever saw the soul crafting division – much different from their childish if effective metaphor of Lego blocks. It was still the most beautiful place Castiel had ever been to, and he wasn’t sure was he now even allowed back there.

Gabriel was waiting for them by the front entrance, and grinned widely when they entered.

“Cas, cousin dearest, nice to see you up and about! I heard you pissed off a few Fates this week.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Castiel protested. “Atropos is very hard to please.”

“Yeah, that’s why I never slept with her, unlike some of us.”

“ _I knew it_ ,” Dean muttered from the side. Castiel didn’t bother telling either of them that they were wrong. That, at least, he would have remembered.

“Naomi wasn’t very pleased by your antics, Dean-o,” Gabriel said then. “I’m gonna let her have her fun, but don’t worry about it. There’s nothing she can do to you.”

Dean looked dubious, but Gabriel was right. Naomi just wanted to vent at Castiel, as always, but it was  irritating that Dean had to bear the brunt of it.

“Well, holler if you need me for anything,” Gabriel said, mirth disappeared from his voice. Castiel nodded, and off they went to search Naomi’s office.

If Gabriel’s office was a total opposite of his personality, Naomi’s characterized hers well. It was sleek and impersonal, with some sharp edges, just like her. Dean stopped two steps before Castiel and stayed a little behind him. Castiel wasn’t sure whether Dean knew that was exactly how Castiel had wanted to place them, or if Dean just didn’t want to get any closer to Naomi.

“Castiel,” Naomi said. Her tone told nothing at this point. “This cannot go on like this.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Naomi wouldn’t have heard his protests, anyway.

“I’ve repeatedly asked you to terminate the bond between you and your mortal, and you’ve refused. But I thought that this could be ignored, if you could control him. Judging by your assignments, this is clearly not the case.”

“It was the first assignment he was on,” Castiel argued, but Naomi shook her head.

“Don’t take me for a fool, Castiel. It was his second, and again, his involvement was inappropriate. He shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Maybe,” Castiel said, “but we didn’t break any rules, did we?”

Naomi’s eye twitched. “Kevin Tran’s soul was about to expire—”

“But it hadn’t expired, not yet. I still had time to complete the transfer.”

“It was still inappropriate to use his own life force to—”

“But Dean offered it out of his free will,” Castiel reminded. “Does that break any rules, or not?”

Naomi was clearly struggling to come up with something to say. Castiel had never felt as certain before her as he felt now, with Dean standing by his side. It was odd how powerful the bond between them made Castiel feel.

“No, he didn’t break any rules,” Naomi finally admitted. “But that’s not the issue. You should have controlled him better. You have the control over him – yet you hesitate to use it.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” Castiel said. “He’s simply inexperienced. He’ll learn.”

“And we should make it possible for him to learn.”

Castiel didn’t like her tone. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’ve been researching the protocols, and True Name protocol states that he’s for every reaper equal to your rank to use,” Naomi said. She wasn’t smiling, but something like joy was visible in her eyes. Maybe she really enjoyed breaking out a thousand year old scroll with instruction nobody could read anymore.

“And as I explained before, I am not willing to break the bond.”

“There’s no need to break the bond,” Naomi corrected him, smile in her eyes now finally appearing on her lips. “You will simply permit him to be in everyone’s use. As long as you permit it, the bond will permit others to command him, too.”

“Am I the only one who thinks this all sounds distractingly sexual?” Dean muttered. He wasn’t, but Castiel was too annoyed to think about that right now.

“I refuse.”

“Do not be difficult, Castiel. You need to share. You’re not different from anyone.”

“Don’t I get a vote in this?” Dean said. He surprised them both; Naomi had clearly forgotten that he was in the room, and Castiel had been trying to shield Dean from Naomi with his wings ever since they entered. He had been hoping Dean wouldn’t say anything to Naomi – he didn’t want Dean to receive any of Naomi’s ire.

“No,” Naomi said, poisonously. Castiel felt anger rise through his body, making his wings straighten up and his secondary limbs tighten to fists.

“He’s the other part of the deal. Naturally he has a say in this.”

“He’s a mortal,” Naomi said, back to cold and detached anger. “He’s your possession. Therefore, he’s everyone’s possession.”

“Stop calling him that,” Castiel sneered. He raised his wings high, a sign of threat. He was ready to fight Naomi over this. “Dean will not do anything unless he decides to do it himself.”

“I’m gonna go with Cas on this one,” Dean said. He stepped forward, settling so close to Castiel that their arms nearly touched. The almost-touch burned between them, and Castiel wished they would be even closer, stand as a single entity. “I’m not gonna take orders from anyone but Cas, capish?”

Naomi’s eyes flashed. “I warned you, Castiel. This is the protocol, and we must adhere to it.”

“A protocol that no one has used in thousands of years!” Castiel argued. “It has no meaning anymore! This is different situation!”

“The protocols were put in place for a reason, and this is the exact reason! Is it really so hard for you to follow orders?”

“Only if they hurt Dean,” Castiel said.

Naomi’s eyes hardened. “He will be detained, and put in general use. This mistake of yours should at least benefit all of us, not just you.”

“What’s this I hear about detainment?” came a cheerful voice from behind them. Naomi’s eyes widened, and while Gabriel’s nasal voice was sometimes irritatingly cheerful, at this moment Castiel wholeheartedly welcomed it.

“I’m attempting to correct Castiel’s mistake,” Naomi insisted. “The mortal must be detained, so he can benefit everyone.”

“Hm,” Gabriel said, stepping into the room. His golden wings were trembling dangerously, reminding of a hawk ready to strike. “I don’t see any scrolls to indicate that.”

Naomi visibly flinched at that, but collected herself quickly. “As a director, you know that these protocols exist.”

“Eh, it’s been a thousand years since we last used ‘em. No idea where the scrolls even might be,” Gabriel shrugged. “Relax a little. I say we let the dust settle and see what happens.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes. “Death would disagree with you.”

“That old bastard? Last time I saw him he was too busy gambling it up in 2794 Las Vegas. And hunting for the best pizza place in town. I wouldn’t be too worried about him.”

“The protocols were placed for a reason, and we must adhere to them!”

“Can’t you take an order from your superior?” Castiel quipped. Naomi went still. “Unless you can find these scrolls you keep mentioning, I’m taking Gabriel’s advice. If I understood correctly, no rules were broken, and since I’m unwilling to break the bond, Dean will stay with me. If this is all, we’ll be leaving. Goodbye, Gabriel.”

“Bye, cuz,” Gabriel grinned, twirling the lollipop he’d just conjured out of thin air.

Castiel turned, Dean still pressed to his side, and walked them out of the building. He only let go of Dean once they were outside, but stopped walking when he felt Dean take a hold of his arm.

“Dean?”

“Thank you,” Dean said. He seemed to struggle for words, but his soul was doing all the talking: the colors swelled and swirled, joyous, and in the sides, there were tiny ripples of pink. “That was...thank you.”

Castiel swallowed. He’d seen this in mortals before, but it had never been aimed at him.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Huh?”

“Your, um,” Castiel didn’t know how to tactfully point this out, “your pupils are dilated and your pulse is high.”

_And your soul is covered in pink ripples_ , he thought.

“Cas, not for nothing, but...” Dean looked at him with wide eyes, and then grinned. “That was pretty hot.”

Castiel felt hot all over. Blood in his vein was suddenly boiling, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Dean’s soul, or his eyes. Dean looked right back, licking his lips.

“Uh,” Castiel swallowed. He didn’t have any idea how to react, what to say. He knew what his instincts were telling him, but he had no idea if giving into them was a good idea. He wanted to pull Dean into his arms, twirl him around, and kiss him until there was no pull left in the bond, and it was finally loose and close enough. But he didn’t, because Dean might not like that.

Dean let go of his arm. “Let’s go home, Cas,” he said, and the spell broke for Castiel.

He coughed. “Right.”

“And maybe,” Dean said, glancing away, “we can continue this discussion there.”

Castiel had never flown so fast.

 

* * *

 

Castiel felt like he was on fire. The bond between them was pulsing, beating to the rhythm of their heartbeats, making it impossible to notice anything else. Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off of Dean, and his hands on Dean’s shoulders felt like a poor substitute for what could’ve been closer,  _closer_ .

But when they landed in Dean’s living room, Castiel suddenly didn’t know what to do. The blood was still boiling inside of him, and the bond between them was pulsing, but now it was mixed with a flare of shame. Castiel didn’t have any experience in this area. He had knowledge, technically, but...that wouldn’t be enough. And would Dean even like a supernatural lover? Castiel was mortal-like, in several aspects, but maybe this was the one thing that mortals viewed differently than reapers. Mortals did have looser relationships, after all. And Dean had never given the indication that he could feel the bond. Dean’s soul did, but mortals weren’t cognizant of their souls. Maybe it was all coming from Castiel’s side, and Dean wouldn’t really want Castiel to stay.

“Hey,” Dean said, startling Castiel out of his thoughts. They were still standing in living room, facing each other after landing, even if Castiel had let go of Dean’s shoulder. Slowly, Dean raised his hand to touch Castiel’s cheek, and the soft touch felt heavier than what Castiel had expected. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” Castiel muttered. He swallowed. “Dean...”

“Hi there,” Dean said, smiling a bit. His fingers caressed Castiel’s face, tickling against the stub, and Castiel felt himself calm down.

_Please_ , Castiel thought he heard being said, and whether or not it was real, it was signal enough. Castiel took the risk, leaning closer, and when Dean wasn’t backing out or pushing him away, Castiel slowly, carefully, sealed his lips over Dean’s.

Castiel had no experience on this, either, but he was certain it shouldn’t have felt this good. Dean’s hand slid into his neck, pulling him closer, and Castiel mimicked the motion, nearly sighing with relief when he got to feel Dean’s lips, face, body melt against his. The bond was alive, sparkling with joy, and each time Castiel’s lips moved against Dean’s, the joy only intensified.

It was addicting. Castiel wanted to feel more of that.

It felt like too much time and not enough had passed when Dean stepped back, gasping for breath. Castiel didn’t let him stay like that for too long – he leant in for another kiss, and eagerly, Dean responded to that.

“Cas—Castiel,” Dean muttered between the kisses, “should we—”

“Too much talking,” Castiel said, and dived in for another kiss. The bond between them was singing with joy, and now that he’d had a taste of this, Castiel couldn’t understand how any mortal could get anything done when the alternative was to spend their days like _this_.

_Please_ , someone – Dean? – said again, and Castiel relented, pulling away.

“What?” he murmured against Dean’s skin.

“Never showed you my bedroom, did I?” Dean asked, voice shaking. “C’mon, just...”

The invitation was more than enough. Castiel let Dean lead the way upstairs, periodically distracting him from that by pulling Dean into another kiss, then another. At some point, Dean had to push Castiel away, laughing, because they weren’t making any progress towards the room at all.

Dean had pushed Castiel’s jacket off of his shoulders and gotten rid of his tie by the time they finally reached Dean’s room. Pleased, Castiel noted that Dean’s room was the only one in the house that completely looked like him. The double bed was neatly made, and piles of books were littered over the floor and nightstand. Some other time, Castiel would have stopped to read their titles in fascination, trying to see how the choices fit Dean. But he was too distracted by kissing Dean and tumbling down on the bed with him, wings flaring upright when he landed on top of him. Dean trembled minutely, pulling Castiel into another kiss, until the movement slowed and came to a halt.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked, cupping his face.

“Dean—do you...” Castiel swallowed. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“But I’m...” _A creature_ , his mind supplied. A supernatural being. Not mortal, not equipped for these kind of situations. Reapers had no rules against relationships with mortals, but most reapers didn’t feel any attraction towards mortals, so it never became an issue for them. Castiel had no idea what to do – he wanted Dean, body and soul, but now that he had that, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t innocent and knew what mortals did together, but still, he hesitated – would Dean really like him like that?

“Cas,” Dean said, and any objection Castiel might’ve had melted away that second. Dean’s soul was rippling in pink so beautifully that Castiel couldn’t have resisted a moment longer.

“Please,” Dean said, and just like that, the dam broke. Castiel pulled Dean in, kissing him with all that he had, and blissfully, Dean answered with the same fire.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel breathed. He wanted to know everything there was to know, wanted to know what Dean liked and how he did it. He just didn’t know where to begin.

“You can just...touch me,” Dean said. “C’mon, touch me.”

Hesitantly, Castiel followed the advice, returning to kissing, but sliding his hands along Dean’s body now. Dean shook when his fingers grazed his collarbone, and moaned when Castiel pressed his thumb slightly into the dip under his Adam’s apple.

_Touch me,_ Castiel suddenly heard. He startled, rising up a bit, looking at Dean with surprise.

_No, no, don’t go—Please touch me._

“I can hear you,” Castiel said, astonished. “I can hear you, Dean.”

“I—” Dean swallowed. “What is this? I think...I think I can _feel_ you. Not just because you’re, you know, lying on top of me, but... Everywhere.”

The bond was getting stronger, warmer, firmer with every touch they shared. Castiel nudged it, and when he felt a nudge back, he was certain that Dean could feel it, too.

“Stay still,” Castiel murmured. “I want to try--”

He kissed a trail down Dean’s neck, making the mortal shudder with delight. A bite on the collarbone made Dean jump and moan, and a kiss on his stomach made Dean squirm. It was endlessly fascinating, the way Dean reacted to everything he did.

Dean huffed a laugh when Castiel slipped his hands under Dean’s t-shirt, attempting to get to his torso. There was more skin, more places Castiel wanted to kiss and caress, and right now, clothes felt like the stupidest thing mortals had ever come up with.

“Take off your shirt,” Castiel muttered. “It’s in the way.”

“Bossy,” Dean laughed. He complied, once Castiel sat back on his heels and gave Dean room. Castiel put his hands on Dean’s chest, admiring the way Dean’s pale skin contrasted against his hands.

“Pants, too,” Castiel said, and Dean gasped.

“Goddamn, dude. You must have a magical voice,” Dean breathed. He unbuttoned his jeans, and Castiel helped pull them off. Dean cursed when Castiel went for his underwear right away, pulling them down, too. He didn’t want anything between him and Dean.

“Why...why is that?” Castiel asked, starting to kiss a path down Dean’s sternum.

“Because I feel compelled to do whatever you say.”

Castiel frowned, pulling away. “Dean. Technically, you  _are_ obligated to do whatever I say.”

“Not what I meant,” Dean said. He smiled, crooked. “C’mon, Cas,” Dean mumbled. “Gimme a command.”

Castiel’s heart skipped a beat at that. Was Dean really suggesting...?

“I want to see,” Castiel muttered, “I want to see how you touch yourself, Dean.”

Dean gasped at that.

“How?” he muttered.

“However you want,” Castiel said. He had too many ideas and no clue where to start.

“Like...like this?” Dean slid his hand down his stomach, slowly, until he reached his cock. Dean had been hard already when Castiel had pulled down his pants, but Castiel watched now with interest how Dean’s cock seemed to get wetter when he started to pull on it, how Dean’s breath hitched when Castiel leaned down to kiss him.

“Show me,” Castiel said. “Show me, Dean. What do you like?”

Dean swallowed audibly, then turned over to his stomach. Castiel watched with fascination as he reached for the nightstand, but fumbled with the drawer, hand trembling slightly. He couldn’t get it to open, and Castiel pacified him with a kiss to the neck.

“Let me,” Castiel said. He leaned over Dean, stopping to enjoy the way Dean drew a sharp breath when his clothed chest met Dean’s naked back, and opened the top drawer, taking in the few contents. There was a bottle, a box of napkins, and several strange-looking items that didn’t make sense for Castiel, although he guessed that they must have been related to mortal sexuality. Some of the items clearly resembled male genitalia, though others were less subtle in design.

“Cas,” Dean said, head hitting Castiel’s stomach, “Just, just hand me the lube. C’mon.”

“This?” Castiel picked up the bottle and put it on the bed. Dean nodded and snatched the bottle, opening it.

“What are these, Dean?” Castiel asked then, returning to the drawer. Dean groaned.

“They, oh god, do I need to really give you the birds and bees talk?”

“A short description would be fine, thank you,” Castiel remarked. “What is this called?” He picked one of the items, holding it up.

“Put, put that down,” Dean said, clearly embarrassed. “That’s a butt plug. I’ll show you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed. He shuffled back on the bed, eyes following as Dean squirted some lube on his fingers and reached for his backside. He got on his hands and knees, and the motion made something awaken in Castiel. He felt too hot, still in his shirt and pants, which were getting very tight, anyway.

“You wanted to watch me,” Dean muttered. “So get behind me.”

Castiel obliged him, settling behind Dean. With Dean on his knees and reaching back to his ass, Castiel couldn’t help the temptation and placed his hands on Dean’s hips.

_Cas_ , the bond whispered, and Castiel caressed Dean’s flanks with his thumbs. Dean shuddered with delight, and Castiel smiled, repeating the caress.

Dean started by circling his hole with one finger, and Castiel watched as he slowly but surely inched in. Dean muttered to himself all the while, panting and cursing, and it was clear that he hadn’t done this in a while, although he seemed to enjoy it. When Dean rolled his finger and pushed in, letting out a groan, Castiel couldn’t help but join. He joined his thumb in, pulling on Dean’s rim and enjoying the way Dean started to tremble as he did that.

“Cas, fuck—” Dean pressed back into Castiel’s hand. “If, if this is a hands-on demonstration, you should, you should get naked, too,” Dean said. His face was brilliantly red, and he panted as he pushed his finger in and out, pulling on his rim. Castiel lazily pressed his thumb in, and Dean’s hips stuttered when he did that.

“I should, shouldn’t I,” Castiel muttered. He’d almost forgotten about that, watching Dean, but now he felt hotter than ever, and clothes felt too restricting.

Castiel retreated a bit, leaving Dean to touch himself, and quickly undressed. Dean stole glances at him while he did that, and Castiel smiled when he could hear both the audible gasp and the thought,  _Goddamn_ , when Dean saw him fully naked. Castiel’s cock smacked against Dean’s thigh when he got back on the bed, and the movement felt so good that Castiel pressed closer to Dean, positioning himself so that he could press against Dean’s leg while Dean continued to touch himself.

_Next time, I want that in me_ , Castiel heard Dean think, and saw some very explicit images suggesting how exactly Dean wanted to do it.

“Next time, I want to do this to you,” Castiel murmured, moving his hips and pressing his cock against Dean as he did that. Dean cursed, his movements getting frantic now. “I want to open you up and press inside of you. I want to know how that feels.”

“Cas,” Dean panted. “Christ, where’d you—where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“Is it not...adequate?”

“Fuck, it’s very adequate,” Dean panted. “C’mon, tell me more.”

“I want to see you use those butt plugs,” Castiel said, and Dean nearly choked. “I think you’d look very nice with that blue one. It seemed to be the biggest.”

“Cas, Jesus—” Dean pushed his fingers in, groaning, and fell forward on his stomach. Castiel pressed even closer, his chest touching Dean’s back, and slid his hands to Dean’s chest to pull him up again, back into position. He lined them up so that Dean’s hand bumped against his cock, and unable to resist, Castiel pressed forward. He kissed Dean’s neck, starting to move his hips, and urging Dean to move as well.

“Come on, I got you,” Castiel murmured to Dean. He moved his hand down, taking Dean’s cock into hand, and Dean whined and leaned into the touch. He started to move his hand on Dean’s cock along the rhythm of Dean’s fingers, quickening the rhythm when Dean panted and whined, faster and faster.

“Cas, Cas,” Dean muttered, and when Castiel pressed close to his back and pressed his fingers into the slit, Dean gasped and came all over Castiel’s hand. He trembled slightly, fingers still moving behind him, and Castiel didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

“Dean,” Castiel said. He couldn’t think of anything better to say. Dean collapsed on the bed, panting, and turned around to his back, smiling up at Castiel.

“Wow,” Dean said. “That’s...wow.”

“Adequate?” Castiel asked, and Dean snorted.

“One way to put that.” He lifted his hand and placed it on Castiel’s stomach, fingers caressing the muscles. Castiel was still hard, but he almost forgot about that, when Dean touched him so gently.

“Hey,” Dean said. His hand curved around Castiel’s cock. “Let me help you with that.”

“Dean, what—”

Castiel’s protests died on his lips when he saw Dean arrange the pillows, then settled on them so that his neck was elevated. Grinning, Dean shook his hips, beckoning Castiel closer with his expression.

“What did you have have in mind?” Castiel asked, curious when Dean settled down.

“Wanna suck you down,” Dean muttered. “C’mon, Cas, just...”

He grabbed Castiel’s ass and pulled him closer, and Castiel shuffled on his knees until he was so close that Dean could lick him. With a grin, Dean did exactly that; he opened his mouth and licked a long stripe along Castiel’s cock. Castiel hadn’t been expecting that and with a gasp, he nearly fell forward – his wings reacted in time, correcting his balance, and he pressed his hands along the wall to balance himself.

“Dean, are you—” Castiel managed to say, before Dean opened his mouth again and slid Castiel’s cock fully into his mouth. Castiel felt his chest tingle, and then realized that it was the bond, expressing what his body couldn’t, what spilled over. It was a feeling unlike anything Castiel had ever known, physical pleasure once almost reaching the closeness of the bond, and he couldn’t stop his hips from moving forward, further seeking Dean’s warmth.

Castiel’s wings flared up, twitching and trashing, the more Dean sucked him and twisted his tongue around his cock. Castiel moved his hips, and Dean met him halfway. Dean encouraged him by pulling him even closer, and from there, it was easy to form a rhythm for them. Castiel felt hot all over and he panted, chasing the pleasure faster and faster.

“Dean, oh, Dean, I think I’m—”

Dean didn’t pull away when Castiel released into his mouth. Rather, he pressed closer, sucking down all of Castiel’s spent, and when Castiel finally pulled out, gasping for breath, Dean took his hand and pulled him down to the bed. Castiel went happily, flopping over Dean and covering whatever skin was left with his wings.

“Tickles,” Dean laughed.

“Sorry,” Castiel muttered. His wings more resembled leather than anything else, and it probably wasn’t very pleasant feeling. He tried to pull away, but Dean put a hand on his right wing and pulled him closer.

“Hey,” Dean muttered, sleepily. He brushed his other hand through Castiel’s hair. _Wish you’d kiss me again_ , Castiel heard Dean think. Smiling, he leaned in to fulfill that request.

They stayed like that for a long while, until the kisses tapered off and Dean became drowsy. At some point, Dean dozed off, but Castiel was too wound up to sleep. He kept thinking back to every touch, every word between them, the easiness between them...and how beautiful Dean had been when he’d done as Castiel asked, how pink his skin had become when Castiel had asked him to touch himself, how his lips had fit around Castiel’s cock. Castiel caressed Dean’s back, softly, not wanting to wake him up.

But the more Castiel watched Dean’s sleeping back, listened to the soft sounds of his breathing, every good thought that he’d had slowly fled. What if...what if that was all Dean ever wanted? One experience with a supernatural being – one mistake that he wouldn’t want to repeat?

What if he never wanted it at all?

Castiel never should’ve put Dean into this situation. He never should’ve given Dean any...any orders. What if Dean had only gone along with his desires and hadn’t wanted it after all?

He held Dean’s True Name, after all. He had full command of Dean, after all. He was a danger to Dean.

He couldn’t stay here.

Confused, disappointed in himself and heart aching, Castiel left Dean to sleep and flew away.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel had rarely felt as alone as he was now. Even sitting in the middle of his prized collection, his mementos from around the world, didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, he felt alone in the middle of shadows of other people’s lives.

Absently, he tinkered with the pocket watch that he still hadn’t been able to fix. He’d taken the watch apart hours ago and wasn’t any closer to actually reassembling it. He was just passing time, he knew that, but he couldn’t get a hold of himself and stop wallowing.

The bond between him and Dean felt heavy. It was silent, but it felt heavy, like an actual chain as opposed to the silky rope Castiel had likened it to before. There were no emotions passing through it, no colors or sparks, and even if Castiel tried to ignore it, it worried him.

He missed the certainly of the bond. But at the same time, he was afraid of it.

He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Except Dean, and Castiel couldn’t have him. Mortals and supernatural beings just didn’t mix – mortal lives were fleeting, light, compared to the enormity of reapers’ existence. They didn’t stay.

Castiel took the watch to his hand again and tried to make sense of its contents. He picked up a piece, trying to figure out what went where, and not think about the painful way the bond was pulling at his chest.

_Castiel_ , Dean’s voice came through, and Castiel dropped the watch.  _Cas, where are you?_

“Dean,” Castiel said, aloud. The bond between them came to life, starting to pull Castiel towards Dean. At this moment, it felt almost annoying how unerring it was, like a compass always pointing towards Dean.

_C’mon Cas, don’t ignore me_ , Dean pleaded in his mind.  _I know you can hear me. Just...just don’t leave me. Talk to me_ .

Castiel was tempted to sever the connection and stay in his own universe for an indefinite time, but he couldn’t ignore the painful way the bond tugged his heart.

_Castiel, please. Don’t leave me_ .

“I…I wasn’t going to,” Castiel muttered.

_What are you afraid of, Castiel?_

That made Castiel pause. What was he afraid of? Losing Dean before he even had him? Mortals didn’t stay in reapers’ lives, their existences only intersected periodically, except...

Dean was the one exception to every rule.

Castiel had never been one to run from battles before. This was a new situation, a different situation, but he wouldn’t run from this, either.

Mind made up, he put the watch aside and stood up.

_Dean, can you come here?_ he asked through the bond. There was a momentarily pause, and then,

_Uh, sure, just…I can’t fly, remember? Wherever you are, that seems to be pretty far away from me_ .

_Stay still_ , Castiel said. The bond went quiet, and Castiel followed it, though all the universes and timelines. He already knew where he was headed, and wasn’t surprised to find Dean at his own house, still in the bedroom.

It was easier than Castiel had anticipated, to release a bit of his magic, let it flow through the bond, and then, suddenly, Dean was there. He was disoriented for a moment, but as soon as he spotted Castiel, he sagged in relief. Castiel felt a twitch in his wings, almost as if they were acting out on their own and wanted to pull Dean into his arms. Castiel resisted the feeling.

“That’s a new trick,” Dean said. “Didn’t know I could fly.”

“Didn’t know I could summon you,” Castiel countered. “Or talk telepathically.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. He walked closer, then stopped. They stood there, unsure how to react now that they were in the same space. Castiel was feeling a bit unsure about showing his pocket universe to Dean. Dean was the only person he had ever brought here, and he didn’t regret it, exactly, but it still felt…odd. Scary. Strange to let someone see the only personal place he’d ever had.

“So, um,” Dean looked around the room, “Nice digs.”

“This is not a cave.”

“No, I mean—” Dean huffed a laughter. “It’s a nice room, Cas.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, quietly. He stayed where he was, letting Dean look around and explore the shelves. Dean picked up a toy car, looked at it for a moment, then put it back on the shelf, read the titles of the books on the top shelf, picked up a magician’s wand and gave it a twirl before placing it down again.

“You’ve got a nice collection of...” Dean searched for a word. “Stuff,” he settled on. It made Castiel huff out a laugh.

“Thank you,” he murmured. He watched as Dean looked through the bookshelf, picking up item after item, observing them with a curious smile on his face, and then putting them back on the shelf before moving on to another item.

“What’s the theme here?” Dean asked.

“Theme?”

“Why do you have a top hat,” Dean picked the hat up and put it on his head, “a toy car, a jewelry box, and an old-timey watch in the same shelf?” He turned around and spread his arms, proud of the top hat on his head. It was too big on him, and looked ridiculous.

“They’re memories,” Castiel said. He finally dared to come closer, feeling much better now that he was in the same room as Dean. His heart had stopped beating painfully, and he felt calmer. The bond had also quieted down, seemingly satisfied.

“Memories of what?”

“People I’ve made a deal with,” Castiel said. He took the hat from Dean’s head and placed it back on the shelf. “I can’t remember them all. But I wanted something to remember them by. To honor their sacrifice.”

“Are…are these all people who gave up their lives in exchange for…”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “Or those who should’ve lived longer but couldn’t.”

Dean looked around the shelf again, with renewed interest.

“I thought you guys weren’t allowed possessions,” Dean said.

“They’re not possessions, they’re memories,” Castiel protested.

“And this isn’t a room of your own,” Dean said.

“I’ve never shown this to anyone,” Castiel said. He glanced around the room. “It took me centuries to make this. To hide it properly from view.”

Dean looked at him. The warm shades of the forest were pulsing through the bond, but Castiel could read fondness in his eyes, too. “You’re really something else, Cas.”

Castiel just hoped it would be enough.

“Why’d you leave me?” Dean asked, voice going quiet. “I missed waking up next to you.”

“I…”

“Did you...regret that?” Dean swallowed. “I mean, I get it, I’m not exactly something to write home about, and you’re—you.”

“No, Dean, that’s not why…” Castiel sighed. “I apologize. I panicked. I shouldn’t have left. I didn’t want to.”

“You still did,” Dean said, quietly. “Didn’t…didn’t you like what…happened?”

“What—why would you think that?” Castiel asked. “I thought... I thought you didn’t...”

“That I didn’t like it?” Dean asked. He frowned. “Cas, you may be able to see people’s souls, but that doesn’t mean you know their hearts. Don’t make decisions on my behalf.”

“I apologize, I wasn’t trying to.” Castiel dared to step closer, and Dean turned, meeting him halfway. “But, Dean...I worried that it was the bond that made you...like that.”

“Cas, I—” Dean swallowed, but his smile was becoming wider. “I enjoyed it when you took care of me. And, um, I know it’s kinda fucked up, but… I enjoyed it those commands.”

“You…” Castiel swallowed. “You like that?”

“You’ve obviously never seen yourself,” Dean grinned. “Yeah. It’s weird, I get it, but… I kinda like it. You look…” He paused, red in the face. “You look hot when you get annoyed.”

“Only annoyed?” Castiel asked, leaning closer.

“Uh, when you’re angry, it’s hot too, but…too real.”

“Mmm.”

“I never did anything I didn’t want to do, Cas,” Dean said. “Honest to god. And you never made me do anything I didn’t want—I mean—” Dean looked away. “Do you find me repulsive?”

“What? Dean, I never could—why would you think that?”

“For liking the things we…” Dean swallowed. “I mean, I’m not ashamed of—but maybe you don’t like—”

“Dean, let me reassure you, I never did anything I didn’t want to,” Castiel said. “And hopefully chose things that you liked.”

“I really did, Cas,” Dean said, a small smile now creeping onto his face.

_Kiss me_ , Castiel thought, and Dean did. He put his arms around Castiel, and Castiel pulled him in. It was a relief to touch him again, and when Castiel closed his wings around them, Dean sagged against him, relieved. They remained like that for a while, enjoying the closeness.

“So, we’re okay?” Dean asked then, after they parted.

“We’re very okay.” Castiel smiled. “I’m sorry for running away earlier. I won’t do it again.”

“I dunno,” Dean said. He flicked Castiel in the nose and laughed at his indignant expression. “You seem to have a knack for it.”

“And you for lashing out when you’re uncomfortable.”

Dean’s cheeks colored. “Guess we both have a thing or two to learn, huh?”

“Well…we have an excellent guide,” Castiel said. He nudged the bond, feeling elated when Dean answered it with a nudge of his own.

“One good thing about that, right?” Dean muttered. He nudged Castiel again, and feeling much more ease now, Castiel answered it by putting his wings around Dean.

“We should probably head home,” Dean said, eyes twinkling. “I never got to show you all the things in my bedroom, after all.”

“We can’t stay in the house all day, Dean,” Castiel chastised him.

“Why not?” Dean countered, lewdly raising his brows. “No reason for me to get out.”

“Sex is hardly sustenance,” Castiel said, bumping Dean with his wing. Dean huffed a laugh, hitting Castiel back. They stumbled backwards, until Castiel’s knees hit the nearest chair, and he was forced to sit down. Smiling, Dean followed him, straddling his lap.

“I’m telling you, I’m trying to get a job, but it’s...not easy,” Dean said. He seemed much more interested in finding a proper spot to sit on Castiel’s lap, though.

“Perhaps you’re looking in the wrong places,” Castiel suggested. He pulled Dean closer with his wings. “What do you want to do, Dean?”

“Huh?” He frowned. “Like I told you, I work in construction.”

“And if I recall, you said, it wasn’t your first choice.” Dean’s expression was admission enough. “So what do you want to do, instead?”

“Not much I can do with just a GED and three bucks to my name.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “not with that attitude.”

Dean distracted him enough with a kiss that the discussion was dropped, but Castiel made a note to bring the subject up again. As much as Castiel would have wanted, Dean couldn’t stay in his arms all day, and Castiel needed to push him out of his comfort zone.

Well, all in good time. After one more kiss.

 

* * *

 

Despite Dean’s grumbling and mumbling, he finally admitted (with the aid of a few kisses to strategic places) that he had been putting off looking for a new job (he had worked on his resume, that much was true, but he had never really sent that many applications). Dean blamed Castiel’s sudden appearance into his life for that, and then reluctantly admitted that maybe it had more to do with the fact that he didn’t want to go back to construction. He just didn’t know what to do instead.

With a little push from Castiel, Dean agreed to really start looking for a job, and actually managed to land a part-time job at a local coffee-shop. It wasn’t his first choice, either, and not something that he would be doing for long, but it was a start. Dean sheepishly admitted that money might’ve been a little tight at the moment, so that was a welcome change, at least. Castiel was simply happy seeing Dean get out of the house more – every new person he spoke to, every new experience he had, every time he returned home after a day’s work and stole a few kisses from Castiel, his soul was looking better and better. Dean didn’t even know it, but he was healing. Those dark swirls inside of him were melting away, and each day, the bond between them felt stronger. More secure.

Castiel was still on Naomi’s naughty list, so the few assignments he got were pity gifts from Anna, or occasionally Rachel. Other controllers and directors probably thought it best to stay out of the situation, and Castiel didn’t blame them. It had been surprisingly peaceful for a few weeks, and Castiel hoped it would stay the same.

He liked his half-mortal life on Earth, much more than he’d thought he would.

And he was getting used to it much faster than he’d thought. They had developed a routine that worked. Castiel still took whatever very small assignments he could get, or visited his former deals, and sometimes, Dean would even join him on those trips. He was particularly impressed after a visit to 1600s Paris, when Castiel showed him a merchant he’d healed for two measly years – Castiel could’ve gotten twenty from him, but he hadn’t wanted to push the poor man who had a wife and five children.

“You seem confused,” Castiel commented after they’d left the merchant. Dean hadn’t wanted to return just yet, so they were strolling the streets of Paris. Dean had remarked that they probably weren’t as filthy in the 2000s as they were now, but Castiel enjoyed the atmosphere of the town.

“It’s just... I guess I’ve never seen you work before,” Dean answered. “You let him have his legs back for just two years? Sounds kinda...” He crooked a smile. “Fair for a demon.”

“You’ve never seen me work at all, Dean. You _did_ ruin my assignment the last time you saw me work,” Castiel commented. Dean’s ears looked a little pink at that, and he avoided Castiel’s look.

“I guess,” Dean finally conceded. “Sorry, Cas. I didn’t realize I made it so difficult.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said. “Besides, you were right, in a way.”

“I was?”

“We do need to expand our offers,” Castiel mused. “Modern people have access to medicine, food and shelter in a way that previous timelines do not. What could we possibly offer them, if all we can do is heal their bodies and souls?”

“I’d say that’s good enough,” Dean said. He was smiling a little. “I mean, I made a deal for that. Not everyone has good medical coverage.”

“Hmm.” Castiel looked at the blue sky, considering what Dean had said. “Maybe I should propose you as a development manager. You do have some good ideas, after all.”

“Guess I could get used to this,” Dean mused, with a small smile. “Assistant reaper.”

“You would look good in a suit,” Castiel said, winking at him, and Dean almost tripped on his own feet. It never ceased to amuse Castiel how easy the mortal was to rile up.

Most of the time, Castiel went on these trips alone, though, because Dean was getting back “into the groove,” as he’d called it. He saw his friends, talked with Sam sometimes on the phone, and went out to work.

Which was why few weeks later, Castiel wasn’t immediately worried that Dean wasn’t in the house when Castiel returned. Glancing at the clock, Castiel saw that he had returned to the correct time, down to the right minute. He hadn’t erred in that lately – finding his way back to Dean’s timeline was the easiest thing nowadays. The stronger the bond between them had become, the easier his magic flowed, and the less there were strange magical occurrences around Dean.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, even though he knew the empty house wouldn’t answer.

Castiel frowned. On Thursdays, Dean’s shift at the coffee shop ended at two, and he hadn’t said anything about going out after work. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be at home.

What was starting to scare Castiel was that he couldn’t locate Dean. He’d followed the bond here, as always, but Dean wasn’t where he was supposed to be. And if he concentrated on the bond, it felt muddy and heavy – he couldn’t follow it to Dean. Frowning, Castiel tried to reach out to Dean, but there was only silence. Fear starting to hammer in his heart, he tried again.

_Dean, where are you?_

No answer. The bond rippled with Castiel’s thoughts, but came back with only a pressing silence from Dean’s end.

_Dean!_ Castiel tried, but again, there was only silence.

Something was wrong. Dean wasn’t here, because he couldn’t. Something was blocking the bond, and with every second, Castiel could feel the bond fraying, getting weaker.

He had to find Dean before it was too late.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped, and he was flying before he even realized he’d left. He had no idea where he was going, only that he needed to reach Dean. The bond protested, plunging him into darkness, but stubbornly, Castiel followed the thread, trusting it lead him to Dean. When he hit a wall of darkness, barely able to see the bond, he concentrated and pushed through the wall, looking for any bit of the thread between them.

It was incredibly frayed, almost gone, but he found the way, suddenly pushing through the darkness, and on the other side, the bond was clearer again. The clear cut between them made Castiel nervous – was Dean trying to break the bond? Or someone else? -- and faster and faster he flew, following the trail, even if he’d never flown wherever it was he was going this time. This was a strange, unknown part of space he’d never been to.

He finally landed in the middle of darkness. There was nothing that he could see, and for a moment, Castiel worried that the bond was too broken, and he hadn’t been able to find Dean after all. But after a moment his eyes got used to the darkness, and he was starting to see shapes. Round, small shapes, floating in the space.

Where on earth was he?

Castiel squinted against the darkness, and when he still couldn’t see, he let his magic ripple out. The golden streaks of light lit up the space momentarily, and after that, Castiel could see the shapes better. The colors came back, and Castiel finally realized what he was looking at.

Pieces of souls were floating in the air. They were bent, ripped, dim in their light, but Castiel had held too many souls in his hands to not recognize the shapes. Shocked, he stepped closer to the dim lights, and tried to summon them to him. The soul pieces scattered, not reacting to his magic at all, and not knowing what he was really looking at and why, Castiel followed their trail. He pushed away the thought that these pieces were from Dean’s soul, because he knew Dean’s soul too well – these pieces were from someone else.

Castiel stepped on something, stumbled down in the darkness, and barely corrected his fall by opening his wings. He landed carefully, trying to make sense of what he’d run into.

His heart jumped to his throat when he realized that he was looking at a corpse. The soul pieces were floating around it, feebly trying to get back. Castiel stared at the face of the dead, not understanding why he was seeing it. When mortals died, their souls were collected – their souls didn’t break apart on their own. And he’d never seen them react like this.

There was movement to his right, and startled, Castiel twirled around. Someone was standing there, over another corpse, and Castiel felt his heart break when he saw who he was looking at.

“Naomi,” Castiel breathed.

 


	9. Chapter 9

It took Castiel a moment to understand what he was seeing. The corpse in Naomi’s feet was Dean – lying limp, face ashen, eyes closed. Castiel’s heart constricted painfully, and he had to remind himself that despite everything, Dean wasn’t yet dead. His soul was still clinging to his body, although it was dim. Pieces of dim light kept swimming around Dean’s body, seeming lost, and with horror, Castiel realized that his soul was fracturing. Even if he was a few feet away, Castiel could barely feel the bond, only a few strings left in the dim light, desperately trying to keep the pieces of soul from floating away.

“What are you doing?” Castiel could barely contain his rage. “You had no right to harvest his soul!”

“Castiel,” Naomi said, still as coolly as ever. “Does it look like I’m harvesting?”

It didn’t, but Castiel didn’t know what else Naomi could’ve been doing. Naomi was keeping Dean’s soul under some sort of spell that Castiel had never seen.

Castiel felt sick to his stomach when he realized how little regard Naomi had held for Dean. To separate a soul from its body was a complicated process, and shouldn’t be rushed. Fear made his wings tremble – even if he did get Dean’s soul back and pushed it back into the vessel, it might not survive. Dean would be in a state worse than death after that. Not alive, because his soul was broken, but not dead, because the bond between kept his soul anchored to the plane of the living.

For one fleeting moment, and for the first time, Castiel truly hated the bond between them. If he had canceled it in the beginning, none of this would have happened. If he had only looked for an alternative to set Dean free.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it!” Castiel hissed. He tried to fly closer, but Naomi threw a magical barrier in front of him. Enraged, Castiel let his magic surge out, trying to break through the barrier, but he couldn’t. Naomi smiled crookedly at his attempts, and Castiel couldn’t understand why his magic wasn’t working.

He had always been good at magic. He made no mistakes. But he had never seen a spell like this, and against Naomi’s spells, his magic felt useless.

“Not so fun now, is it?” Naomi calmly asked. “How does it feel to be weak, Castiel? Weak as a mortal?”

“What?”

“That’s what you get for tying your magic to him,” Naomi sneered. “You’re becoming weaker by the second.”

Naomi was speaking the truth, Castiel realized. His magic was seeping into the bond, and through that, to Dean – who was under Naomi’s spell. Instantly, Castiel stopped the attack, trying to think of a different strategy.

He didn’t know what Naomi was planning to do, but he needed to save Dean, before it was too late and his soul was pierced. He needed to stall Naomi, until he found an opening. Dean’s soul was still there, barely, but it was clinging to his body.

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel asked. “Dean never deserved this.”

“This is not about who deserves and what,” Naomi said. “I do not care that it’s his soul.”

“Then why him?”

“I tried to do this the easy way. I tried to tell you to leave him alone. I gave you so many chances to back away, Castiel,” Naomi sneered. “But you are so stubborn. Never listen to a word you’re told. I’ve been trying to find a soul like this for centuries,” Naomi said. “I’m not letting go, now that I’ve finally found it.”

“What?” Castiel tried to think of what to say next. While he kept his wings still, inside, he was trembling with effort. Wherever in space they were, it was deep, because his magic wasn’t reaching anyone. He was alone.

Naomi moved towards Dean, and Castiel attacked again. The magic bounced off of the barrier, and with horror, Castiel could only watch as Naomi plunged her hand into Dean’s chest and pulled out a dim piece of green light. It flickered in her hand, furiously, before dimming out.

“Stop it! You’ll damage his soul!” Castiel yelled.

“I don’t care!” Naomi hissed. “He’s not important! The soul is all that matters!”

“Why do you want it so much?”

Naomi scoffed. “Tell me, Castiel, when have you last seen a soul with one hundred and twenty extra years?”

Never, was the right answer. Dean was special, and Castiel had known it from the start. He just hadn’t wanted to think about why.

“Sometimes mistakes happen,” Castiel tried to say, but Naomi scoffed.

“A mistake is a few years. A hundred and twenty is a _choice_.” She looked coldly at him. “Even after all these years, I’m still cleaning up your mistakes.”

Castiel felt a pain in his head. He couldn’t remember, but...

“How is this my mistake?” he asked. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Oh, but you did,” Naomi said. “You took this from me. All this power, and you hid inside a single soul. And then you sent it on its way, lying to everyone that it was a normal soul, completely average.”

“I...I crafted Dean’s soul?” Castiel asked, flabbergasted. “I don’t...”

He didn’t remember. And when he thought about it, he couldn’t remember anything about his time in the soul crafting division. The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was a white patch in his memories where there should’ve been his time as a collector, as a soul crafter – and childhood years. He couldn’t remember how he came to be. He never had – but he’d always assumed that was the way for other reapers as well.

What was wrong with him, if he couldn’t even remember crafting Dean’s soul?

“You took this from me,” Naomi hissed, “Just when I had found the perfect pieces, you hid all that power inside a single soul. And then you sent it on its way, lying to everyone that it was a normal soul, without a single extra year.”

“Is…is that why you kept sending me to these desperation hunts?” Castiel felt sick. “You made me search all over the realm, just for this one soul? For Dean?”

“But isn’t it a soul to die for?” Naomi asked, cruelly. “At least, you chose banishment for him.”

“He’s worth it,” Castiel said.

“You’re malfunctioning again,” Naomi said, her tone poisonous. “This is why you never should’ve been a negotiator. Too much heart. Always more trouble than you were worth. Maybe I should reset you once again.”

Castiel stared at her. “Reset—reset me?” Anger, stronger than anything he’d felt before, filled his whole being. “What have you done?”

“You’ve interfered before,” Naomi snapped. “I won’t let you stop me again. This soul belongs to me.”

“It’s not yours to take!” Castiel yelled. He dashed forward when he saw Naomi dunk her hand right into Dean’s soul again. Castiel’s anger cut through the barrier just enough, but before he could stop her, Naomi ripped another piece from Dean. Furious, Castiel flared his wings at Naomi and tried to bind her with his magic, but Naomi was too quick to retreat. She backed away, and then, smiling, she opened her mouth and stuffed the piece of soul in. Castiel watched in horror as she swallowed the piece.

“He won’t even need this,” Naomi said. “But I do. I need more.”

“You’ve done this before? You’ve stolen life force for yourself?” Castiel gasped. “Why would you do that? That damages the souls!”

“Do you have any idea how valuable this—” she lifted her hand up in the air, still glimmering from the piece she’d ripped out, “this power is? How useless it is to humans? They do nothing with it. They only use it, and then get more for free!”

“Because they are the only beings who _can_ use it. The only beings with souls,” Castiel argued. Then it clicked for him. “Are you trying to create a soul of your own? Is that what you’re after?”

“Isn’t that what we’re all after?” Naomi smiled, cruelly. “Don’t pretend otherwise. And besides, that was your intention. I’m just borrowing your idea.”

“…mine?” Castiel paled. “I—I tried to create a soul for myself? Why would I do that?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent here, Castiel. You’ve wanted to be an individual from day one. You never listened to any rules we set, nothing stuck in that stubborn brain of yours.”

“I don’t… That’s not true,” Castiel said, weakly. But it was. He had a room of his own to prove that. The loopholes he kept abusing to offer people more. The way he had latched onto Dean and their bond, and had never wanted to let go.

He had always been different, but had never wanted to admit it.

“You won’t even reset right. I think you came off the line broken, with a crack in your chassis,” Naomi snarled. “And yet, you put it all in line for one mortal’s soul? You had all this power in your hands, and then you decide that it’s too ‘beautiful’ to break?” She huffed. “And you could’ve taken it all to yourself.”

“I never would’ve done that,” Castiel said. He couldn’t remember, he had no idea what he had done, but he was certain he never would have done something like that to Dean.

“We’re the same, Castiel. I just want to be who I can be. I want to make things better for all of us, for our realm. I want to be someone, Castiel. Just like you do.”

“But not at the expense of others,” Castiel said. “Not if it means taking something from _them_. Mortals have no control in this situation. They aren’t given a choice. We decide what kind of souls they have, how they live, how they die.” He looked straight into Naomi’s eyes. “We can’t ask any more than that.”

“We deserve more!” Naomi argued. “I have a personality, Castiel, and thoughts of my own! I deserve a soul!”

“Not at the expense of others,” Castiel repeated. “If we were meant to have souls, there would be another way to get it.”

“There isn’t,” Naomi insisted. “That’s the balance. And if we want something, we need to take it.”

With that, she rushed to Dean’s corpse again, plunging in to rip another piece out. The shimmering light was getting weaker, and enraged, Castiel lunged after her.

“Stop!” Castiel struck her with his wings, managing to distract her enough to knock the piece from her hand, but she was already holding another one. Naomi threw another barrier around herself, and Castiel’s magic wasn’t enough to break through. Furious, he threw himself against the barrier, managing to make a crack on it. But he wasn’t fast enough to stop Naomi from putting another piece in her mouth. The dim light faded as the piece traveled through her body, settling in.

“I can already feel it forming,” Naomi said, smiling. “I finally have a soul.”

Somewhere behind them, Castiel could feel a new presence appearing.

“I think the fuck not,” Gabriel said, and then there was a bright light, exploding all over the space.

 

* * *

 

Castiel didn’t question how Gabriel had heard them, and he didn’t question the spell Gabriel managed to put on Naomi to stop her from moving. He hardly cared about anything else than getting to Dean, frantically gathering all the pieces of his soul, and trying to mend them together. Castiel didn’t remember making Dean’s soul, but he would never forget those agonizing moments he’d spent trying to parse it together.

In the end, the threads of the bond in Dean’s soul had started to sew themselves back into the pieces. Castiel had only needed to nudge them, and Dean’s soul had mended itself. But that didn’t mean Dean was alright; he still hadn’t woken up.

Castiel was periodically shooting worried glances at Dean, because he hadn’t stirred even during the long flight, or when Castiel had tried to call out to him. Castiel had flown them to his pocket universe, and Dean was now resting on the bed that Castiel had rarely needed before. While Castiel sat vigilant by Dean’s bedside, Gabriel wasn’t as worried. He kept going through Castiel’s collection in the bookshelf.

“You always were a strange one, Cas,” Gabriel said, but the wide smile told Castiel that he hadn’t meant it as an insult. On the contrary, Gabriel had been practically purring with joy when Castiel had revealed where he had flown them. “Never knew you had this much power, Cas. If I’d only known, you’d been a director from day one,” he’d said, tinkering with whatever he could pull from the bookshelf.

Castiel nodded absently, still too worried about Dean to form a coherent reply. Gabriel put the cell phone he’d pulled from the shelf back to its place and flopped down on the second chair. His wings were so huge that even if Gabriel tried to be considerate and keep them to himself, he ended up brushing against Castiel’s wings every now and then. Castiel barely noticed.

“Hey,” Gabriel said, “stop worrying. He’s resilient, your boy.”

“He barely survived. And he hasn’t woken up.”

“His soul just got ripped out. Give him a couple of hours, and he’ll be back to normal. Well, hopefully without any side effects.”

“Side effects?” Castiel winced.

“I’m joking,” Gabriel said. “Sorry. Habit. I think he’s just tired. The bond between you two is strong enough that it could rip the universe apart.”

Castiel sat in silence, watching Dean. His soul was still a ball of dim pieces, but more color was very slowly gathering to them, and Castiel’s chest constricted every time there was a new flicker of light.

“Naomi was willing to kill for this soul,” Castiel said, quietly, “and I can’t even remember crafting it.”

“That’s not your fault,” Gabriel said. “She messed with your memory.” He hedged, and then asked, “What’s the earliest memory that you have?”

Castiel paused to think. He had never thought about it, but his mind was a bit messed up. Memories seemed to be out of order; some seemed like pieces of dream that might not have happened, and some things that Castiel had thought to be a dream, must’ve been real. Maybe he had been spending time on Earth before. Maybe he did remember the feeling of cutting up vegetables even before Dean introduced him to it. Maybe he had sat in a mortal’s couch and watched a movie before.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I have blips from here and there. I don’t know what’s my first deal, or when I was made a collector. I don’t even remember being a cleaner.” He frowned, thinking back. “But I do remember people. I remember some of the deals. And I remember meeting Balthazar when I was first made a negotiator.”

“Christ,” Gabriel muttered. “That’s... Castiel, you’re two-thousand years old. And you can’t remember most of it. For fuck’s sake, you’ve been a negotiator only for three hundred years. You were the best soul crafter in the division, before...” He went quiet.

“Before Naomi,” Castiel finished the sentence. “How come no one realized I—I was missing memories?”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, quietly. “After you were reassigned, I just thought you didn’t want to talk about it. I never realized she’d go this far.”

“No one could’ve predicted that.”

“I could’ve. She’s not the first who’s done this,” Gabriel said. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before. I guess…I guess I should’ve been there. More involved in…” He trailed off, and then awkwardly added, “Duties.”

“Naomi’s not the first?” Castiel frowned. He finally turned slightly away from Dean, eager to focus his attention on something else. Even if it was Naomi.

“Not the first nor the last to try to steal souls. But she had bigger plans than anyone, I give her that. I’ve never seen anyone try to construct a soul of their own like that.” He smiled, crooked. “Even if it was your idea, apparently.”

“I’d never do something like that,” Castiel retorted. Then something dawned on him. “Is that why Dean’s soul responds to my magic so strongly?” Castiel asked. “Because I crafted it? Or because it was already infused with it?”

Gabriel gave him a thoughtful look. “Hard to tell, bro,” he mused. “Maybe it has nothing to do with that. Maybe your boy toy is just so dumb that he didn’t realize what he was signing up for and that’s why your protective magic didn’t work. Or maybe he’d been signed up since day one.” Gabriel shrugged. “Magic ain’t an exact science, you know that. And soul bonds work in mysterious ways. That’s why they’re so rare.”

Castiel frowned. “I thought you said True Name deals were rare because mortals are rarely so stupid as to give in to that.”

“Sure. But Name deals are hard to make in practice, too. Not everyone can even do that.” Gabriel gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re really something, you know that, bro? Not everyone can pick a soul and make a connection with it like you can.”

Castiel looked away, embarrassed. He had always been proud of his strong magic, but he’d never realized how much stronger it must have been than others’.

Maybe that was one of the reasons Naomi had done what she’d done. Maybe she had thought that the souls would give her the same kind of control.

“I don’t feel resentment towards her,” Castiel said then. “Is that a sign of weakness? I should hate her for what she did, and hurting Dean, but…”

“She reminds you of yourself,” Gabriel said. Castiel shrugged; that might as well have been true. Naomi had tried to strive to be an individual, to get as much for herself as she could, but had gone a completely different way about it than Castiel, who had hid his collection of mementos in secret and had built a place for himself.

“But you didn’t siphon some soul juice, like Naomi did,” Gabriel said. “Didn’t you try to construct a little soul of your own?”

“No,” Castiel said. “Souls belong to mortals. I wouldn’t steal from them.”

“No,” Gabriel hemmed, “I guess you wouldn’t.” He paused. “You’ve been trying to grow a soul of your own for a long time now, haven’t you?”

He didn’t sound angry, just contemplative, as he looked at Castiel.

“I think so,” Castiel said. He thought of the way he’d formed the bond with Dean, and what thrill it gave him. It wasn’t a soul, but it _was_ a unique sign. “I guess I didn’t realize it.”

“Why’d you want that? It’s just a soul, after all. A ball of light.”

Castiel smiled. “It’s the ultimate sign of being an individual, is it not?”

“So you don’t want to become human?”

Castiel shook his head. “I enjoy mortal world. But this is my home.”

Gabriel nodded. “You do realize that humans aren’t the only beings with souls, right?”

“That’s…I’ve never seen other beings with souls that humans.”

“Right,” Gabriel snapped his fingers. “Forgot that tiny detail. You don’t have clearance. Hold that thought.”

“What—”

If Castiel had thought that Dean’s soul was blinding, it was nothing compared to the sun shining from inside Gabriel. Castiel couldn’t focus his eyes for a moment, completely taken aback by the golden sunrise that lit up the room. The shine of it didn’t dim, but in a few moments, Castiel got better used to the sight.

“Angels have souls,” Castiel gasped.

“Damn right we do,” Gabriel said. “Different species, remember?”

Forlorn, Castiel looked at Gabriel’s golden shine.

“I wish I could have that,” Castiel said.

“Bro, I hate to tell you this, but you didn’t need any half-cocked schemes to make it happen. Naomi got it all wrong. You can’t just grab any soul and make it to your own. It’s going to break if you force it. You need to grow it on your own, just like consciousness. We are who we make ourselves to be.” Gabriel grinned at him. “Which is why, you, Cassie dearest, already have a soul.”

Castiel’s first reaction was to hit Gabriel with the nearest object and tell him to stop joking about the subject. But Gabriel seemed completely sincere.

“What?”

“Not just everyone can make a deal for True Name with a human, remember? It requires stronger magic than just snipping a few days off of a mortal’s soul.”

“The bond,” Castiel realized, “it’s between souls.”

“Got it in one.”

“I…I always had a soul?”

“Maybe not always,” Gabriel mused. He was smiling as he looked at Castiel. “It looks kinda new. Like it was formed recently. Or maybe not…formed, it’s older, but the shape is new.”

“What does it look like?” Castiel asked, eager. He couldn’t see his own soul – that was one of the arbitrary rules of magic that he had never thought he’d see in practice, but there it was.

Gabriel grinned. “Ooh, the chances! I could tell you anything, and you’d have to believe me!”

“I take the question back.”

“It’s blue,” Gabriel then said. He sounded sincere, which threw Castiel in a loop. “Blue like the ocean. Incredibly wide and deep. Furious, but with a gentle lull.”

“Now you’re just making things up,” Castiel protested, even if the words got a little stuck in his throat. He would carry that image forever with him – an ocean, within him?

It would look beautiful when placed next to Dean’s lush-green forest, he thought, happy.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Gabriel said, grinning widely.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I suspected you had one ever since you snatched up Deano here. It just wasn’t very visible before. You needed some time to really form it.”

Castiel understood that in his own way, Gabriel had given Castiel time to come to the conclusion himself. He smiled at that; maybe, if Gabriel had told Castiel from the start, he would have never taken the journey with Dean. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Well, I’m thinking that we need to shake up the bureaucracy a little. Maybe a little lean management.”

“What do you mean?”

“Naomi in charge wasn’t clearly working, and if she was unhappy, how do you think the other controllers and negotiators are feeling?”

Castiel blinked. “Are you asking me?”

“Yes, Cassie dear, I’m asking you. Are you happy in your position and what it entails?”

Castiel didn’t need to think about it, but he still paused before speaking. He didn’t want to insult Gabriel. “I like my job, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my existence.”

“Alright, good, that’s a good start. What else?”

“I...I’d like to have personal items.”

“You already have,” Gabriel said, gesturing around the room. “You rebel.”

“ _Officially_.”

“Ugh, fine. Tough sell. Something else?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “True Name deals can’t continue as they are.”

Gabriel stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“We have too much power over mortals. Commanding them to cater to our every wish against their will has to stop.”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, and then snorted. “Cas, it would be hilarious to not tell you, but you’d kill me, so... That, my dear cousin, is not how True Name deals work.”

Gabriel was openly snickering now, and Castiel glared at him. “What do you mean? You and Balthazar kept telling me that I could make Dean do whatever I wanted!”

“Yeah, if you use his True Name.”

“Haven’t I been using that?”

“Not his _name_. His serial number? Hello?”

“His—his number?” Castiel suddenly felt idiotic. The numbers in Dean’s chest, the litany that showed his birthday and number... was the True Name. Not Dean’s birth name. He had known from the start what Dean’s True Name was, but he had never actually uttered it out loud. “You need to...command his True Name—”

“Yeah, and even then it only works if the command doesn’t harm anyone. It’s, I dunno, a flaw in the original design. We needed to come up with some way to keep mortals from harming themselves or others. It’s like...an override switch. Sure, it would work for some depraved stuff as well, if you’ve got imagination for it, but...”

Castiel felt mortified and relieved at the same time. At least he knew for certain that he hadn’t ever made Dean do anything against his will, but then again...

That meant that Dean had wanted him, all the while. He had been an idiot over nothing. He and Dean had already talked about that aspect of their...relationship, but now it was clearer than ever. It was a relationship, wasn’t it?

It was, Castiel decided. Now more than ever, he felt free with Dean. He glanced down at Dean’s sleeping form. The pieces of his soul were still dim, but the color was looking better, and warmth had returned to Dean’s body. He looked much more alive, now.

And Castiel couldn’t wait to continue the life he’d carved with Dean.

“I just…I can’t believe I would have overlooked something as simple as this,” Castiel muttered then.

“Hey, in your defense,” Gabriel said, “No one’s actually managed to get a real soul bond in, what, four hundred years? Give or take a few centuries. And you were kind of wiped of most knowledge.”

“True,” Castiel said, managing a smile.

“But hey, let’s return to the business at hand, before I change my mind. What do you want to do, Cas?”

“Well, deals need to be broader. Easier for modern people. They need better incentives, and we would need the official ruling to be able to heal them to—”

“Okay, okay, done, very admirable of you, but, Cas,” Gabriel stopped him, “what do _you_ want to do? Be a controller? Crafter? Continue as a negotiator?”

“I—” Castiel took a breath. He thought of Dean and how he couldn’t leave the mortal alone. How he wanted to be closer to Dean. “I think...I’d like to be a guardian angel.”

Gabriel groaned. “Ugh, guardian angel? You’d really want to do that grunt job?”

“It’s not a grunt job to protect mortals, Gabriel.”

“If you say so,” Gabriel said. “Spent centuries doing that, and no thanks. I’d rather visit the mortal plane for fun. Being a director’s much more fun than that.” He grinned at Castiel. “But that way you’d get to spend an awful lot of time guarding your boy toy, right?”

“Stop calling him that,” Castiel said. A flush rose to his face, even though he tried to stop it. “And I wouldn’t just be protecting Dean. There’s his brother, and his friends, and other assigned humans I would be taking on.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take it so seriously. This ain’t a job interview, kid. You already got the position.”

Castiel couldn’t believe this was so easy. “Really? Just...just like that?”

“Think I owe you for the attempted killing and a thousand year’s worth of memories missing,” Gabriel quipped. He said it lightly, but Castiel could see the pain radiate in his soul. Gabriel was really shocked and remorseful that he hadn’t seen what was happening right under his nose.

“It’s what you want, right?” Gabriel smiled. “Not what the company wants.”

“Yes.”

“Though... You’d be a pretty strange-looking angel, Cassie. You sure you’re up for this?”

“I’ve been strange my whole life, Gabriel.” Castiel shrugged. “Why stop now?”

“Atta boy,” Gabriel grinned. “One guardian angel, coming right up.”

 

* * *

 

When Dean finally woke up, it happened in his own bed. Castiel had stayed by his side for three days, vigilantly watching every change in his condition. Slowly, Dean’s soul had mended, and while it had been hard for Castiel to wait and not speed up Dean’s healing with his magic, he had let Dean’s soul heal at its own pace. Castiel might’ve been a crafter once, and he might’ve made Dean’s soul, but he wasn’t ready to poke and prod at it anymore.

Castiel kept watch, day and night, while Dean slept and his soul healed, and when he finally woke up, it naturally happened at the most inconvenient of times. It was past eleven in the evening, and Castiel was wondering if he should perhaps take a short nap, because while he could stay up for a week, all the worrying was getting stressful. He wanted to rest his mind for a bit.

Then Dean’s hand moved against where Castiel was resting his on the bed, and Castiel forgot all about his tired eyes and ever-whirring mind.

Castiel didn’t think Dean had ever looked more beautiful than when he opened his red-rimmed, tired eyes.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, “god. That was a messed-up dream.”

Castiel brushed his hand against Dean’s forehead, then combed his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean relaxed into the gesture, sighing.

“What kind of dream was it?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean mumbled. He had closed his eyes, but still lifted his hand, as if to search for Castiel. Without missing a beat, Castiel took his hand. “I don’t remember much. Just...something about...Naomi and...souls.”

“She tried to steal your soul for herself, yes.”

“That was real?” Dean mumbled. “God. I don’t wanna know. I feel like I got trampled by a herd of elephants.”

“A parade,” Castiel said.

“What?”

“A herd of elephants is called a parade,” Castiel said. “It feels fitting for the situation, ironically.”

“You gotta learn some real puns, man,” Dean said. He smiled up at Castiel, and Castiel felt his whole being hum with contentedness.

It was a wonder he hadn’t realized he had a soul before, because now he couldn’t stop noticing it.

“Dean,” Castiel said then, unable to wait, “Our deal is canceled.”

Dean opened one eye. “I thought it was impossible.” He squeezed Castiel’s hand, and suddenly looked worried. “Is...is this why you’re here? For a goodbye?”

“No, Dean, you misunderstand. We’re still bonded.” He smiled. “It’s just not a deal, anymore. The deal itself is done. I healed Sam, like you asked, and you accepted the terms.”

“Uh...did I wake up on the wrong timeline?” Dean muttered. “Feels like we’ve been over this before.”

“It’s not the deal keeping us together anymore,” Castiel said. “It’s _this_.”

He pulled on the bond with his magic, caressing it, and smiled in relief when Dean answered the gesture.

“I feel like you’re a few weeks late,” Dean muttered. “I clued in when we started to talk telepathically. I ain’t got magic powers, but even I know that’s gotta be some sort of magical super-glue.”

“It’s a soul bond,” Castiel said, beaming. “That’s what connects us. Not the deal.”

“Okay,” Dean said, clearly not understanding the importance of the moment. But Castiel felt lighter than air.

“And I never used your True Name,” Castiel whispered. “I never used it.”

“So...what’s that mean?”

“Everything you did, you did out of your own volition,” Castiel said.

Dean smiled a bit. “Told you. I wouldn’t bend over just for anyone.”

“I should hope not,” Castiel said. He caressed Dean’s face, and Dean closed his eyes again. “I should’ve listened to Gabriel from the start. He was right. No one could make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” Castiel grinned. “You’re too pig-headed for that.”

“Tell your jerk cousin that I hate him, too.”

“That’s his way of saying that he likes you.”

“Oh. Then tell him that.”

Castiel’s smile only widened. He probably looked like a fool, but he couldn’t have cared less. He had missed Dean’s humor.

“So, uh,” Dean asked, “are you gonna kiss me, or just stare at my pretty face?”

“I think I’m going to enjoy it for a moment longer,” Castiel answered. He squeezed Dean’s hand, and Dean squeezed back.

“Memorizing my handsome features before a long flight?” Dean said it lightly, but Castiel could hear the slight worry underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t you have deals to complete?”

“No,” Castiel beamed. “That would be hard, since I’m not a reaper anymore,” Castiel said. Dean’s soul flashed with worry, but it eased when Dean noticed Castiel’s happy smile.

“I knew it. You were really a demon the whole time.”

“No, Dean,” Castiel grinned, “I’ve been promoted to being a guardian angel.”

“You—okay, um, wow.” Dean laughed. “An angel, huh?”

“Only in name.”

Dean smiled at him.

“Does that...does that mean you’re staying for good?”

“I’m staying with you,” Castiel said. He smiled, and his smile got wider as Dean answered it.

“Well, I mean,” Dean coughed. “That’s for sure. You need someone to look after your dumb ass. Might as well stay here.”

“I think you mean _you_ need someone to look after your ass,” Castiel said. He leaned closer, grinning when he saw how Dean swallowed. “And, well, it’s a great ass.”

“Cas,” Dean laughed. “You can’t—you can’t say stuff like that! This is a serious conversation.”

“So it is,” Castiel said, and then shut out Dean’s protests by leaning in and kissing him.

There were a lot of things they still needed to discuss, and there was still a lot that Castiel didn’t know about himself, or what he’d done – but he thought that it would be alright. For now, he was where he wanted to be.

The bond between him and Dean bloomed at that thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this far - wow. Thank you so much for the journey! <3 Hit me up on tumblr, [here](http://helakkas.tumblr.com) or [here](http://justkeeponwriting.tumblr.com)!


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